


After

by crystaltabboo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bars and Pubs, College, Drinking, Fluff, Misunderstandings, Oops, Pregnancy, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:12:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystaltabboo/pseuds/crystaltabboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because sometimes when you do things in the dark, they'll turn up in the light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

    I smell like the hospital, Clarke thought, yanking off her baby blue scrubs and throwing them as far away from her as she could in her tiny bedroom. She had just pulled a twelve hour shift that day in the pediatric unit. As a medical student in Ark University, Clarke had to do her clinicals as well as her classes. Four days out of her week, she had twelve hour shifts, usually followed by a class. Not to mention her part time job as a library attendant.

    She was lucky if she ever came home. Today was one of those miracle moments where her night was suddenly opened for her. Her hours were done for the week, and she only had to work on two essays and an online exam. But they were for her art class, which she was in love with, so that wouldn’t be too strenuous.

    Walking out of her room, she immediately headed for the restroom. A hot shower was definitely what she needed at this moment. Homework could wait. Turning on the shower, she waited until the entire bathroom was fogged up with the hot steam before getting in. Clarke stayed under the running hot water until her skin turned pink and her muscles relaxed. She sighed contently, finally feeling all the knots on her body loosen up.

    When she was done, though it was only six in the afternoon, she put on her favorite Iron Man pajama pants and a white tank top and sauntered to the living room. Plopping down on her couch, she turned on the TV, already calling up Netflix. What to watch, she thought, scrolling through the movies.

    In the end, she settled for rewatching the Titanic. Oh Jack Dawson, you incredible man.

    Right when Rose and Jack were dancing merrily to the beat of bongos and old drums, her roommate walked in. Clarke looked up to see a huffing Raven throw her huge backpack down on the kitchen table.

    “You okay?” Clarke called out, already turning back to see the old man that was following Rose around climbing back up the stairs.

    “Are you watching Titanic?” Raven asked, instead of answering her question. She threw herself on the couch beside Clarke, kicking off her boots. As a way to try and soften Raven up, and because she looked like she really needed it, Clarke gave Raven the best pillow they had.

    Her friends face did lighten up a bit, but Clarke knew her enough to see the oncoming rant. She didn’t mind, lowering the volume on the T.V. (Even though Cal was about to tell off Rose for her shenanigans. Damn him.)

    “I got a new partner.” Raven started, launching into a detailed description of the ‘illiterate chemist who wants to play god.’

    “Aren’t chemistry and Quantum mechanics along the same field? I mean, they are related.” Clarke trailed off lamely, withering under the heavy glare thrown her way.

    “It doesn’t matter if our subjects compliments the other. He is a sarcastic narcissistic asshole who can’t stand that my prototype of a car engine is better than his. I managed to cut the use of gas in half and bring the speed up by twenty miles. It’s fucking ecofriendly, for god sake.”

    Clarke nodded along to the rest of the rant, awing and booing in appropriate sessions. Doctor or not, she had hated the chemistry classes she had to endure during her sophomore year. And anything involving the mechanisms of something flew over her head. Ask her about the anatomy of the human body and the vast depths a human mind has, and Clarke could answer you in a heartbeat (pun intended). This—was Raven’s area.

    “I just need to drink.” Raven finished, looking at Clarke expectantly.

    “What?” she asked lamely, when Raven didn’t say anything but still kept looking at her.

    “What do you mean what? You aren’t doing anything tonight. Let’s go to a bar.”

    “How do you know I’m not doing anything tonight?” Clarke sniffled. “I could have a hot date for all you know.”

     Raven snorted. “As much as I wished that were true, it’s not. You have no makeup on, there are Cheetos stains on your shirt and you are watching the Titanic as if you expect the outcome to be different. Jack dies, Clarke, okay? Accept that.”

    “I will never accept it.” Clarke stated solemnly.

 

 

     It took Raven a whole hour to convince her, but by nine, they were on their way out of the apartment. Clarke didn’t feel like getting too dolled up, wearing skinny jeans and a flowy black shirt under her leather jacket. Her hair stayed down, her curls soft and freshly washed. Eyeliner was her only makeup, and Raven had to deal with it because Clarke did not feel up to the whole girly make over if all they wanted to do was get Raven drunk.

     “I have class in the morning.” She reminded Raven for the hundredth time when she began to complain about Clarke not drinking.

     The bar Raven chose was a few blocks away from them. They walked over instead of taking the car that her and Raven shared. Clarke peeked at her as they walked. It wasn’t weird to think of Raven as her best friend. It was weird to remember how they met. It was during their freshman year. College had barely begun and already it was full of drama. She still cringed at the memory of the shared boyfriend they accidently had.

     “Hey,” Raven looped her arm through Clarke. “Why so serious?”

     “Just—remembering how we met.”

     “Ha, good times.”

     “Oh yeah.” Clarke responded sarcastically. “The best.”

     “It’s all good, Griffin. You live and learn. Now we know broody bad boys with emotional hearts are not good.”

     “I’ll drink to that.” Clarke said, as they walked into the bar. For a small bar, it was pretty packed. The bar on the right gleamed invitingly while pool tables lined the left wall. Square tables filled in the middle and a large jukebox sat on the farthest wall. Raven steered her to the bar, ignoring the tables.

    She waved her arm for the bartender to come by. Clarke didn’t turn to see if he saw, too busy taking in her surroundings. Suddenly, Raven hissed, literally hissed, dropping down low. She grabbed Clarke by the front of her shirt, making her crouch down as well.

     “Are we getting shot at? What’s wrong?”

     “It’s him.” Raven spat out. Clarke was about to turn to see who she was referring to, but the grip on her shirt tightened. “Don’t fucking look. Oh my god, I have to hide. Order me alcohol. I’m going to the restroom.” And with that, her friend slipped off the stool and disappeared into the throng of people.

     Well—Clarke thought, looking around her in bewilderment.

    “What’s your poison?” a deep voice sounded out from behind her. She turned to look at the bartender who had come to take her order. And suddenly—her mind went blank. Holy—Jack Dawson had some heavy competition. The guy standing before her was tall, dark, and handsome—the cliché trifecta. He had a mop of unruly curly brown hair that hung over his wide brown eyes. Freckles dusted his nose and cheeks, which had an awesome bone structure beneath. His chiseled jaw had a small dimple in the center, sitting directly beneath full lips. His hands were on the counter, and she followed them up to see muscular tan arms. He raised an eyebrow and Clarke realized she was staring.

     Shaking her head lightly, she said, “Alcohol.” His mouth pulled up into a smirk.

     “Alcohol? At a bar? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

     “Nothing specific.” She muttered. “Just alcohol.”

     “I’ll see what I can do.” He said, before turning away. A few minutes later and he was sliding her a tall glass. It had red liquid and it was toppling over with cherries. When she frowned at it, he asked, “What? Not to your liking?”

     “Is there any alcohol in this thing? It looks more like a salad.” She looked at it doubtfully.

      This time, he barked out a laugh. “I thought it would be to your liking, Princess.”

     She frowned at him before sliding it back. “No.” she said slowly. “When I said alcohol, I legit meant the type of alcohol you drink after twelve hours of work and—“ she gestured vaguely behind her. “After you get paired up with an asshole chemist who doesn’t appreciate true talent.” Or something.

      “Ah—that alcohol.” The smirk still hadn’t left his face as he turned and grabbed a bottle of some brown liquor.

     “Two, please.”

     He grabbed two glasses and poured a hefty amount into each, then poured coke over it. Finally, he slid both of them her way.

      “You going to drink them both?” he asked her, mockingly.

       “One is for my friend.”

      “Oh, and which one is she? Twelve hour shift or unappreciative chemists?”

       “I happen to be the overworked individual.”

      “And where do you work?”

       She looked at him fully before simply saying, “I’m sorry. I’m not at liberty to give out my private information to strange men at bars. I was raised with the warnings.”

        He raised an eyebrow at her, eyes lit up with amusement. “True. You have derailed me from my villainous scheme. Even though I already know you.”

        Clarke straightened up. “You know me?” she said doubtfully.

       “I see you around on campus. You’re always in the library.”

        “You go to AU also? I’ve never noticed you!” and she should have, him being—gorgeous and all.

        He chuckled. “Well you wouldn’t. You’re always reading something. I highly admired that, actually.”

      “Why admire?”

      “You never hit walls. I keep waiting for the day you smack into something, but it hasn’t come yet.” His smirk widened.

     “Sorry to disappoint.” She muttered. “I have cat like reflexes.”

      “Is that so?”

      “Yeah.” And his smirk shifted into a grin, wide and—hot. Oh boy, Clarke thought, grabbing her drink and swigging it down. He raised an eyebrow, turning around to refill her cup already. So much for not drinking.

     “So what are you majoring in?” she asked him as his back was still to her.

      “I graduated last year. Business management. But I still take classes. Archeologist is my goal.” He slid the glass to her, leaning against the counter in front of her.

      “Archeologist? You don’t look like a history major.” He rolled his eyes.

      “Why? Because I don’t have glasses?”

      “I think it has something to do with the fact that you’re hot.” Oh my god. That slipped out before she could filter her thoughts. Shitshitshit. “Uh—“

      “You think I’m hot.” It wasn’t a question.

     Thankfully, Raven returned at that moment. “Is he gone?”

     No. He’s still standing in front of her, gloating. “Uh—“ she repeated.

      But it became apparent that Raven wasn’t talking about the beautiful bartender. She kept craning her neck around, looking through the crowd. Then she noticed the glass still in Clarke’s hand.

     “Oh, you’re drinking? Yess.” Raven picked up her own cup, downing it in a few gulps. And that is when the bartender caught her attention. She looked between his grin still in place and Clarke. “And you are?” she asked him.

      “Sorry. I’m not at liberty to give out my personal information to strange women in bars.” Laughing, he walked off to take another customer’s order. Raven turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. Clarke tried sinking lower into her stool, but her grin matched his.

 

 

     Raven and her decided to play pool. Even with the distance between her and the bar, Clarke couldn’t stop herself from peeking over and watching the bartender walking back and forth behind the counter. He smiled easily and seemed at ease. And he was glancing over at her as often as she was. She couldn’t help the shiver running up her spine each time they made eye contact.

       After they played for over an hour, he approached them. Raven left to play something on the Jukebox and Clarke was left alone. He slid next to her silently, startling her when he spoke.

      “So my shift ends at midnight.”

     “That’s fun.” She said simply.

     “Want to get a drink with me?”

     “I already got a drink with you.” She reminded him.

     “I meant actually get a drink with me.” She looked at him for a moment, trying to see if he was joking. His face was open—hopeful, but still bordering on amusement at her hesitation.

     “Why?” she asked suddenly. He smiled at her—a genuine smile voided of anything mocking—before stepping closer to her.

      “That’s usually what two strangers at a bar do.”

 

 

      Raven was properly drunk by midnight. And the mystery person she has been hiding from has been revealed.

      “Well, if it isn’t the wrench monkey.” Clarke turned to see who the voice came from. A tall man leaned on their table. His dirty blonde hair was pushed to the side and he was grinning down at Raven, who had her head pressed against the table. “Can’t handle your alcohol?”

      “Shut up, Wick.”

       “My name is Kyle.” He reminded her. Then he noticed Clarke. “Hey,” he extended his hand to her, which she took after a small pause.

     “Hey.”

     “Don’t hey him.” Raven lifted her head to glare. “And don’t associate with my best friend, Wick.”

     He lifted his arms up. “Just being friendly. What do you have against compassion, Reyes?”

     “It’s not compassion when it’s coming from you.” She muttered.

      “Hey man.” A deep voice called out, giving Clarke goosebumps. “You working in the morning?” the bartender walked towards them. It seems he already knew Wick.

      “You work here?” Raven asked. When he nodded, she groaned. “Great. Now I have to find a new bar.”

      “Or you can be my friend. It means free drinks.” He winked at her. Raven’s glare could not hold enough malice. “You getting off, Bellamy?” Wick turned back to his friend. Bellamy was his name—Clarke thought. It’s a nice name.

     “Yep.”

      “Going home?” Bellamy glanced at Clarke before clearing his throat and shaking his head. Wick must have noticed, but said nothing.

      “I think I’m the one going home.” Raven stood up, already putting her jacket back on. “Are you staying?” she asked Clarke, who nodded mutely. “Text me if you need anything, yeah?” her eyes flickered to Bellamy, but it was quick and no one but Clarke noticed.

     “You’re not driving.” Wick said suddenly.

      “No I’m not.” Raven muttered, downing what was left of her drink.

     “You’re walking?” Raven began walking away. Clarke watched as Wick followed her, offering to walk her home. She distinctly heard her dismiss his offer, stating, ‘I can walk my damn self.’

     “So. Bellamy.” Clarke smirked at him as he took Ravens vacated seat across from her.

      “Ah, you pilfered my name.”

     “Wasn’t that hard.”

     “So what’s yours?”

     “Buy me a drink and maybe I’ll tell you.” He grinned at her widely, sliding out of the chair to head to the bar. “Not the fruit salad again!” she called out to his receding back, enjoying the laugh that floated back towards her.

 

 

 

     Clarke woke up the next day. She had to check her phone before making sure it really was the next day. It was five in the morning. Looking around her, she wasn’t able to distinguish her surroundings. A small lamp sat on an overloaded desk in the corner of the room but the light was dim, barely reaching her. The one thing she could distinguish without a problem was the sleeping form of Bellamy.

     And everything rushed back to her.

 

    _“Are you sure we are allowed up here?” she asked for the second time as Bellamy led her up a small staircase that was hidden in the back._

_“Come on, Princess. I said its fine.”_

_“What if your manager finds out?”_

_“I doubt he will mind.” And that was the last time, Clarke complained._

_The door at the top of the staircase led to a small living room. Once the door was shut behind them, Bellamy was on her. His lips as warm as they had been down at the bar. But now, away from people, it was more. Clarke let her head fall back as he made his way down her neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh. She could feel herself warming up as his hands slid under the shirt she was wearing. His fingers grazed her sides, sliding up while bringing her shirt over her head._

_He stepped back, eyes hooded, to look at her. A satisfied hum buzzing in his throat. Clarke licked her lips, which were tingling from his kisses. Bellamy noticed, eyes drawing back up to her face. Suddenly, he leaned down and grabbed Clarke, pulling her up into his arms. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist as he turned, leading them past the small living room and through a door that led to an even smaller bedroom._

_Once inside, he still didn’t put her down. Instead, he turned, leaning her back against the door, his lips back on her neck. Clarke placed her hands on his shoulders, feeling the muscles rolling beneath her fingertips. Her breath came out in ragged huffs._

_Bellamy slid his hand between them, cupping one of her breasts. His thumb rubbed over her nipple, causing her to squirm. He set her down, still holding onto her, turning her to walk backwards towards the bed. She felt the edge of the mattress meet the back of her knees, but before she tumbled down to it, she grabbed his shoulders, bringing him down with her._

_They fell in a breathless heap on the bed, wandering hands not pausing. Bellamy placed himself between her legs, and she felt him press against her, friction causing her belly to clench deliciously._

_“Too much clothes.” She muttered against his lips. Clarke felt him smile, reaching down to unbutton her pants. Before he tried sliding them off, she pushed his hand away. She ran her fingers down his back, loving the way he arched more into her at the caress. When she reached the edge of his shirt, she began to peel it off of him. Once he knew what she was aiming for, he helped her shrug out of it._

_Then she got to look at his chest. Muscles under smooth dark skin rippled perfectly. Clarke traced the sharp edges of his chest, trailing down his belly, watching as his muscles bunched up and flexed in the dim light of the room. Bellamy shivered, eye darkening before swooping back down to cover her. With his mouth back on her, he deepened their kiss, his tongue dipping into her mouth, which Clarke accepted with enthusiasm. With steady hands, he put one finger in her bra, dragging out her breast from its confinement. He did the same to the other, and suddenly, her bra was propping her up, thrusting her breasts invitingly for him._

_Bellamy grinned down at her, then covered a nipple with his mouth. Clarke let her head drop back down on the bed, her mind blissfully blank as he ran his tongue in swirls over and around her. He didn’t leave the other one neglected, reaching up to pinch her nipple with his thumb and index finger. Clarke felt the pleasure shoot down to her center, making her clench her legs together. Bellamy’s waist was in her way, and he had felt her movement._

_“What does the Princess want?” he asked, his mouth still on her. Clarke squirmed under him, breathless and dazzled._

_“Bellamy—“ she couldn’t form a coherent thought for the life of her. She reached down between them, boldly running her hand over his already hard bulge. She was satisfied when Clarke heard Bellamy hiss softly. He dropped his head on her chest as her fingers continued to caress him._

_Tugging at the waistline of his jeans, she orders him, “Off.”_

_He grinned down at her, pulling away to take off his jeans. “Yes ma’am.”_

_Once he unbuttoned his jeans, Clarke sat up, putting her hand on his chest. He looked at her through hooded eyes, as she pushed him to lay back on the bed. She finished pulling down his jeans, sitting down between his legs. Clarke had full view of the hard flesh tenting his boxers. She looked at him for permission, but one look at him only caused the fire in her body to heat up. She removed his boxers quickly, with his help, before grabbing him in her hands. He was big, veins running down the length of him. One stroke down made him gasp softly._

_Clarke leaned forward, letting her lips wrap gently around his head. She wet her lips, then let him slid in deeper into her mouth, her tongue flicking out to wet his skin. Maybe this took him by surprise, because he propped himself up on his elbows to look at her. When she met his gaze, he licked his lips. Pulling her lips over her teeth, she brought him in deeper before sliding back to the top. Once at the top, her tongue flicked in a circle around his circumference._

_She felt proud when he moaned softly before dropping his head back down. Again, she repeated the movement, over and over again, loving the way he clenched himself._

_“Shit—god, you feel good.”_

_Suddenly, he lifted her up. Before she could complain, he tossed her under him, taking off her jeans and panties in one smooth movement. He kissed her from her neck, down her chest, farther down her stomach. He paused at her hips, kissing first one side, then the other before reaching the junction between her legs. Clarke held her breath, skin burning, waiting for more._

_And then there was more. And Clarke was lost as his tongue delved into her folds, opening her up to him. He ran his tongue over her sensitive clit, causing her to jerk upward. Bellamy grabbed her hips, holding her down in place as he continued his attack on her. She could feel this build up beginning to form within her, legs trembling, breath hitching, his tongue swirlingswirlingswirling around and driving her mad._

_“Bellamy—oh god.”_

_“Come for me, Princess.” He said against her center, and just like that, the build-up bursted, causing her to cry out wordlessly. Bliss settled itself into her bones, her orgasm shaking her apart._

_Bellamy didn’t wait for them to subside, quickly covering her again with his hot body._

_“You are beautiful.” He murmured, kissing her. She could taste herself on his lips, but it just made her more aroused. Wiggling, she placed her center directly in front of his shaft. Another wiggle and she made him rub her again. “And insatiable.” He grinned before plunging into her in one thrust._

_“Oh—“ she gasped out, feeling him fill her up. He paused, waiting for her to adjust to his size. Breathing deeply, he began to pump into her. At first slow, then faster and faster. Clarke lifted her hips up to meet him, thrust for thrust. She felt his lips back on her neck, closing her eyes and allowing herself to enjoy all the senses._

_Bellamy bit down on the soft skin of her neck, but she didn’t feel pain. She felt the need for more. She grazed her nails against his back harshly, causing him to push into her deeper. Over and over, the relentless rhythm, she soon began to feel the pressure building up again. Clarke felt herself tighten around him._

_He must have felt it too, because he reached down between them to rub her clit._

_“Wait—I’m going to—“ she couldn’t breathe, her body a tight wire. She could feel her insides quivering. Clarke wrapped her legs around his waist, needing something solid to stop them from shaking. This only brought him in deeper._

_“Fuck Princess.” He muttered, pumping fasterfasterfaster. He leaned his head down, gazing into her eyes in wonder. “Let go,” he whispered. And that she did, not needing his permission, his body already doing it for her. Her second orgasm was better than the first, causing her to groan loudly, her nails digging into his back as she arched into him. He caught one of her nipples, tugging on it hard. And then she felt him stiffen as he found his release in her._

_They were a pile of sweaty limbs and shaking muscles. Her head on his chest as they both tried to catch their breath._

_“Tell me something about you.” Bellamy said quietly, once their breathing stabilized. Clarke already felt the fingers of sleep reaching out to her, but she opened her mouth for him anyway._

_“I draw. All the time. When things go wrong, when things go right, I draw them. I think I have an obsession with preserving things. Moments.” Her voice began to drift as she talked, his heart pounding softly beneath her cheek. His fingers running through her hair was the last thing she remembered before falling into peaceful oblivion._

 

 

 

      And now, Clarke silently gathered all her clothing as quietly as she could. Slipping on her outfit, she gave a sleeping Bellamy one last look, cataloging this moment for her sketchbook, before turning and sliding out of the door. She found her way back to the front of the apartment, opening the door and making her way down the stairs.

     The night air got colder, smacking against her warmed skin harshly. Shivering, she made her way down the dark alley to the front of the bar, turning to the sidewalk that would lead to her own apartment. Feeling like she was doing the walk of shame, she headed home, the scent of Bellamy surrounding her the entire way.


	2. Nine Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh shit" is all that runs through Clarke's mind.

Clarke’s head throbbed as she listened to a student drone on and on about a specific book they needed, but they didn’t remember the name of the author or the title. 

“I’m not sure. All I know is it had this mystery edge to it and there was a killer who in the end ended up being the mother of the girlfriend and it was amazing. Seriously amazing. So I wanted to check it out so I could show my roommate because I know she would love it. She is into those kinds of thrillers.”

“Listen. I can’t help you.” Clarke snapped at the girl. “I haven’t read every single book in this place, okay? You need to have the title or name of the author. If you don’t, go look individually until you recognize the cover, because I am not a magician.”

Twirling on her heel, she walked away from the gaping girl. Whatever, Clarke thought angrily. She was frustrated, tired, hungry and cramping. This was just not her day.

 

Finally, nine O’clock came around and she was able to exit through the sliding doors. Winter had set in, Halloween drawing nearer, so tonight was just as cold as any other night. Clarke began walking home. It was about ten blocks away, but Raven had needed the car to load up some heavy looking material to campus and Clarke didn’t mind walking. 

She had been crabbier than usual, lately. Snapping at everyone and sleeping constantly when she wasn’t at work or in school or at the hospital. Raven said she was overworking herself, and Clarke might have to agree with her soon. She was falling apart at the seams slowly, not knowing what the actual cause of it was. She has always worked, since she was sixteen. Now at twenty-three, she should be used to it.

“Maybe you’re just getting old.” Raven had joked when Clarke brought that up.

 

When she entered her apartment, the first thing she saw was Raven thrown on the floor of the living room, huddled in a ball. Instead of fearing that her roommate was dead, she simply walked into the kitchen, putting the kettle of water to boil and going to the freezer to bring out the ice cream. 

“Menstruation is a bitch,” she called out to Raven, who moaned her agreement. The kettle began to whistle loudly, and Clarke turned to put the hot water into two mugs, a teabag floating in its center. When she brought it out to the living room, Raven had already sat in the sofa, a blanket draped lazily across her shoulders.

“Thanks.” She muttered dryly, taking the bowl of ice cream away from Clarke, who slipped into the blanket with her. “I feel shitty.”

“I bet.” Clarke said, scooping up a spoonful of the pecan ice cream and popping it into her mouth.

“We have the same schedule. Why aren’t you dying with me like you usually are?” Raven asked through a mouth full of ice cream.

“Guess I’m late.” She shrugged, focusing more on her bowl than on her friend. She hadn’t eaten since her afternoon break.

“You’re falling off sync with me. Which other girl are you hanging out with?” Clarke snorted, rolling her eyes at her friend, who smirked back because they both know Clarke had no girlfriends besides Raven.

 

Half way between her bowl of ice cream; it hit her. She froze, hand holding her spoon suspended on its way to her mouth. Holy shit— she tried counting back in her head, but there was a weird buzzing sound echoing behind her eyelids that made it impossible.

“You okay there?” Raven looked at her in amusement. “Hey, Clarke, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me you forgot you have to go to the hospital or something. Clarke, say something. You’re freaking me out.” Raven grabbed the spoon, putting it back in the bowl when it began to drip.

Suddenly, Clarke could feel her stomach rolling, her mouth filling with saliva, a cold sweat popping up on her body. Tossing the bowl aside, not caring where it landed, she ran for the restroom, barely making it as she threw up noisily in the toilet.

“Whoa, babe.” Raven had followed her and was now leaning over her, grabbing her hair and yanking it out of the way. When Clarke threw up whatever liquid remained, she kept dry heaving, her body not relenting.

Finally, FINALLY, it stopped. She sat back on the floor of the restroom, breathing heavily. Raven sat next to her silently, both of them not speaking for almost an hour as Clarke stared up at the ceiling, unshed tears lining her eyes.

 

“Come on.” Raven finally said, standing up gingerly. She extended her hand to Clarke, who stared at it without seeing. “Clarke, you need to get up. We’re going to the store.”

And though she knew the answer, she asked, “For what?”

And though Raven knew that she knew the answer, she responded anyway. 

“For a pregnancy test.”

 

 

An hour, and eight different pregnancy tests later, Clarke got her answer.

“Oh look. This one has a happy face!” Raven said excitedly, but then her grin dropped when she read the instructions on the box. “Oh wait, no. That means yes.” She bit her lip, looking down.

Clarke Griffin was pregnant. 

Oh god, she dropped her head into her hands, finally feeling the tears flow out of her. Once they began, she couldn’t stop them. Clarke began to sob in earnest, a weird noise making its way up to her mouth. She was sounding like a dying animal and for the life of her, she could not make it stop.

“Hey, no. Don’t cry.” Raven wrapped her arms around Clarke, pulling her into a hug. They were in Clarke’s room, sitting on her small bed. “Shh, it’s okay. It’ll all be okay.”

“How can it—be—okay? I can’t—a mom? I can’t—“

“Clarke, hold on. We don’t need to talk about it right now, okay? Let’s just work on your emotions first before you think about anything else. We have plenty of time.” 

And Raven did not let go of her once the entire night, not even when Clarke fell asleep, small sobs still slipping past her lips. She was a constant ‘Shh—it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay’ throughout the night.

 

Two days later, when Clarke could finally talk a full sentence without breaking down, she and Raven touched on the subject. She hadn’t left the house in those two days, calling in to work and school and clinicals. She’d suffer later, but right now, she had to just—think in silence.

“So, the guy from the bar is the father?”

“Yes.” Shit, Bellamy.

“And you don’t want to tell him.”

Clarke fidgeted. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because Raven, I was his drunk mistake.”

“And how do you know that? Just because of that girl?”

 

Clarke had seen Bellamy at the campus coffee shop. After fighting with Raven for a bit, she decided to go and tell him hi. It had been a week since she left him asleep, maybe it was time they talked. But when she walked up to him, she was brought short when Clarke saw he wasn’t alone.

A tall gorgeous brunette had bounced up to him, kissing him on the cheek. He, in turn, leaned down and kissed the top of her head softly, fondness shining from his eyes. Bellamy looked at ease with this girl, and they both sat across from each other. The mystery girl reached over and took his coffee, drinking from it without asking.

Clarke had walked back to Raven, feeling dejected. But vowing never to fall for dark eyes. They were killers of the heart.

 

“Yeah, because of the girl. I’m not going to show up like those annoying women. ‘Hey, oops, got knocked up. Darn it.’” Clarke sighed heavily, hanging her head.

“Has he tried talking to you?”

“The one time he saw me at the library, he stopped dead in his tracks. He didn’t even say anything! He just looked at me all ‘whoa is me’ and I walked away after that.” Which was worse. Because it just proved to her that it was all a mistake. And now—

“Okay.” Raven didn’t push her on this. “It’s fine. I’ll make an excellent baby daddy anyway.” She puffed her chest proudly. “I can do the cheesy dad jokes. I’ll have to buy a shot gun if it’s a girl.”

Clarke put her hand on her flat belly. Counting back, she knew she was only nine weeks along, so she wouldn’t feel anything, but still. The idea that something rooted in there, developing from an egg into—a mass—this ball of tissue that now had nerves and blood and a brain. Raven was right—maybe not about the gender specifically, but the fetus now had a gender. It could be a girl. Or it could be a boy. 

“Hey,” Raven grabbed her hand. “It’s okay.” She repeated.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just—a baby. You know?” it didn’t make much sense, but Raven nodded her head. “I wonder what it looks like.”

“Well, let’s google it.”

 

And so they did. Raven took out her high tech laptop, placing it in the middle of them both. She quickly typed in ‘Baby week 9’ into the google search engine. A webpage called BabyCenter caught their attention. Raven clicked on the link, which opened up into an enlarged picture of a—thing—floating in liquid.

“Ew.” Clarke said, laughing lightly. Raven rolled her eyes, but a smile hovered on her lips as she silently read the description in the bottom of the picture. Clarke however could not look away from the image. It was—it looked like a forming human being. A weird little ball with tiny stubs that resembled hands and feet. Two black eyes peering into the darkness because its eyelids were see through. And right in the center, the largest thing of the fetus, was where the heart went.

She took child development. She knows the stages, from embryo to fetus, cell division, genes and chromosomes. But knowing it was now happening in her own body—it made all the logic fly out of the window.

“Hey, your baby has organs. And its form is basically complete. All it needs now is to gain weight. How cool huh. Clarke—“

Clarke had started crying again, silent tears trailing down her face. Oh my god—when will the crying stop. Raven shut off the computer, sliding away from them quickly, hugging Clarke once more.

 

 

“Okay. Enough. You need to get up and shower.” Raven opened the blinds to Clarke’s room. She had officially been home for four days, not leaving her room. Slung low under her sheets, she glared up at Raven. Who was she to let brightness in?

“Leave me in my misery.” She muttered.

“No. Until you make a decision, your body is no longer just yours. There is a growing fetus in there and it needs nutrition. You need to go see a doctor. You need to go shower and eat fucking food. And you need to go back to class because Dr. Kane is hunting me down in the hallways.”

What she was saying was true—but how was she just supposed to go back to normal? Everything was different now. Burying her head in deeper into her blankets, she all but shrieked when Raven snatched away her sanctuary. 

“Get the fuck up, Griffin.” Taking Clarke’s blankets with her, she marched out of the room. Sighing, Clarke got up and ambled into the restroom, doing the whole shower/clean up thing mechanically.

Raven was in the kitchen, trying to make eggs. Trying being the operative word. 

“It’s burning.” Clarke said flatly, pushing her out of the way to see if she could salvage it. Adding spices, maybe she could. She frowned down into the pan, seeing the eggs, but not really seeing them.

“You’re making them worse.” Raven stated, pushing her away. “Let’s just go eat out.”

 

They went to their usual diner that was seated next to a tiny bookstore. Raven ordered them large breakfast plates, not even asking what Clarke wanted.

When the waitress left, she turned to face Clarke, no nonsense stamped on her face. “First thing first, you need a doctor’s appointment. So I set it up. Before you blow your shit—“ Raven held up her hand before Clarke could ‘blow her shit’ “I set it up at a free clinic on the other side of town. Your mom won’t know.”

Clarke snapped her mouth shut. “Thanks.” She muttered. “When?”

Raven took a sip of her orange juice, hesitating before telling her. “Today.” She glanced at her phone screen. “In two hours.”

Clarke put her head in her hands again, closing her eyes. 

“You can’t put this off, Clarke.” Raven said softly. “I know it’s all—confusing. But you can’t just leave it hanging. You have to face it.” She reached for her hand. “You’re good at handling things. This is just something—larger to handle. But between me and you—I think we got it.”

Clarke looked up and saw the truth ringing from Raven’s eyes. She honestly believed they could do it, Clarke suddenly realized. And though she still felt emotionally stunted, there was something tugging inside of her. Her hand floated down to her belly, touching the flat muscle. Logic came back to her. 

“I’m being naïve, hiding under my blankets like this will go away.” She internally cringed at how flat her voice came out.

“No. It’s normal. Like I said, this is huge. You need to have a moment where you only think about yourself. But once you’re done thinking about yourself, you need to think of—“ and she gestured at where Clarke’s hand lay.

The waitress arrived with their food, and Clarke realized that for the first time in four days, she was starving.

 

“Clarke Griffin.” A nurse called out. She nodded when Clarke stood up. “Right this way please.”

“Can my—“ Raven was standing with her, hands clasped. She didn’t have to say anything else. The nurse smiled kindly at them both, stepping back to allow them into the back of the clinic.

“If you go to the lab first, they’ll draw your blood. Then head in to room number two and remove everything from the waist down. The doctor will be in to see you.”

Clarke knew all about how doctors worked, but this is the first time she has actually been on the receiving end of medical care. How—formal it all was, in such a polite manner. 

When her blood was drawn, Raven waited outside of the room while she undressed, but one shout for her and she was automatically inside with Clarke. She was nervous. Extremely nervous. And the only thing keeping her from running out of the building was Raven’s steady hand. She smiled down at Clarke, who was laying on the crinkly examining table.

After a thirty minute wait, a female doctor came in.

“Hello, Miss Griffin. How are you feeling today?”

“Fine.”

“Good, any complains? Pain? Spotting?” at the shake of Clarke’s head, the doctor smiled at her. “Wonderful. Your blood work came out clean, iron is a perfect level. When you find an OB/GYN, they’ll perform more thorough exams, including one for diabetes. But for now, we are only concerned with confirming your pregnancy and making sure the baby, and mother, are where they should be. Are you keeping up so far?” Another nod from Clarke and she continued. “Okay, so we are going to be doing a sonogram. You say your last menstrual cycle was in the middle of August? That puts you at around nine weeks gestation, which means we can do an ultrasound from the stomach. If you would lay back and lift your shirt, we can get started.”

The doctor turned around, turning on a bright lamp and then turning off the lights overhead. Clarke laid back, lifting her shirt while the doctor readied the machine.

“This is going to be a little cold.” She warned, dripping gel onto her lower belly. Then she gestured for Raven to come closer. “You can stand on her other side so you can see the screen.”

Raven scrambled happily to Clarke’s side, grabbing her hand back up, giving her fingers a hard squeeze. They both turned to focus on the screen, which was facing the doctor. The doctor placed the cold wand to her skin, twirling it around, trying to find something. 

“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?” 

“Yes.” Clarke breathed. And suddenly, this loud warped sound floated out of the machine. Clarke felt her fingers go numb, her breath knocked out of her. The baby’s heartbeat. Oh my god. She covered her mouth with one hand, the other grasping onto Raven’s with enough force to snap bone.

“Strong heartbeat.” The doctor murmured, pressing more buttons on the keyboard connected to the machine. “I’m going to turn the screen to you now.” With that, she shifted the swiveling screen towards them. 

And then Clarke began crying. Again. Because there, floating in a sac, was her bean. The pictures from google did no justice to it. The stubs were there, along with the curved spine and the bulge where the heart was located. But this bulge moved, its tiny stubs wiggling, the place where the heart was at throbbed with a real heartbeat. And it was beautiful.

“A baby.” Clarke whispered. Raven laughed, drawing Clarke’s attention. When she turned to look at her friend, she saw her eyes were filled with tears as well. They looked at each other and grinned goofily. 

“A baby.” Raven repeated.

 

When they were done with the ultrasound, the doctor gave her a picture of the sonogram, as well as a list of preferred OB/GYNS with in near distance.

“Good luck to you and your partner. And congratulations.”

The doctor walked away from a slack jawed Clarke and Raven. They turned to look at each other, horror shining from their faces. Then they broke out in laughter.

“Come on, partner.” Raven looped her arms around Clarke. “You and my baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before everyone gets all WOE IS BELLAMY, try to see it in her perspective as well.   
> It is a lot to take in in such short notice.  
> but dont worry. only time reveals things.


	3. Twelve Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yikes

Clarke was finding it hard to eat food. Everything she ate came back up. It was disgusting. But thankfully, she was entering her second trimester and everyone says the morning sickness dies down during this time. She had her fingers crossed.

It had been three weeks since her checkup. She had another prenatal appointment set up for the week that was coming. This one would be with Dr. Lincoln. He had the best reviews and when she had visited his clinic, it was clean, tidy and the nurses were more than helpful.

She still hadn’t told anyone. No one but Raven knew about her pregnancy. Clarke knew she had to tell people soon. Her belly was not round, nor jutting out, but without a shirt on, it was a definite bump protruding from her narrow hips. 

After the ultra sound, she had waved away any thoughts of terminating her pregnancy. It was a safe alternative, just not one she would choose now. Raven supported her one hundred percent, stating they would make excellent parents.

“Dr. Griffin,” Kane’s voice interrupted her musing. She had returned to her ordinary life, which included clinicals four times a week. “You’ll be in the ER tonight. Ice on the roads. Plenty of work for you down there.”

“Thank you Dr. Kane.” He nodded at her, walking back to the other students to assign them on duties for their shift.

Clarke loved the ER. There was always plenty to do, rushing back and forth between curtains and patients, the unknown always springing up on them last minute, the shuffling around to get what you needed for your patient. It was mind numbing work and she was the best at it.

 

Ten hours into her shift, she was drained. Ice always led to accidents. There were awesome cases though. Like bed ten who got stabbed in the shoulder with an icicle. That one would definitely need surgery. Or bed two who fell with a fork, that was now jammed into his ribcage. Her exhaustion was mainly forgotten, all the good cases falling in her lap. She smiled in silent pleasure, wishing she could rub it in to all the other medical students faces.

“Dr. Griffin, new patient in bed four. Here are her charts. Might be just a simple sprained ankle, but there was also a head injury. No lacerations, just a bump.” The nurse looked at her for instructions.

“Okay, order an X-Ray for both ankle and head, as well as an MRI just in case of a concussion. No medicine until I see those shots. Ice and elevate the ankle when possible. Come find me when it’s all ready.”

Clarke went back to check on bed ten. The icicle was melting just nicely, but she was worried about dirty water infecting the wound, so she went ahead and sent the patient up to level five, where a surgeon was already waiting to remove the icicle. 

“Here are all the results.” She turned to take the scans from Harper, the nurse who had given her the new patient. 

“No concussion or hemorrhage. No bone fracture either. Just some tissue bruising. Alright, thank you Harper. Get the discharge papers ready. I’ll go ahead and let the patient know.”

Clarke walked over to bed four. Pulling open the curtain, she was looking down at the chart. “Well, Miss Blake, looks like you were lucky. You—“ and then she looked up. “Oh my god.”

There stood Bellamy. Her heart was in her chest. She couldn’t breath. Clarke’s hand went up to clench at her belly, before she noticed he was holding—Miss Blake’s hand.

“Clarke—“ Bellamy began.

“You have no concussion and your ankle isn’t broken. Just some tissue bruising, which explains the swelling. So long as you keep it iced and propped on pillows, you’ll be fine in three to four days. We do recommend that you try to stay in bed for those days, and take Tylenol for your head. I’m sure it’s feeling pretty sore at the moment.” Clarke ignored him, focusing on the patient. She smiled tentatively at the girl.

“Just a bit, Doc. I took a really nasty fall. But it was all this guy’s fault. I told you, Bell. You need to find a new apartment. That alley is a bitch to leave. Puddles everywhere.”

“Well if you looked where you were going, O, you’d be fine. Who doesn’t notice a puddle?”

“It turned to black ice, okay.” The girl huffed irritated.

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone. Please feel better, and if your headache persists or you suddenly get dizzy, don’t hesitate to return.” She turned to leave the girl (looking down at the chart in her hands, she read the name Octavia.) and Bellamy alone.

“Hey, Clarke, wait.” Clarke didn’t turn to look at him, already out in the hallway, “Wait here, O.”

“Not going anywhere.” She muttered from the hospital bed.

“Clarke.” Fine. Clarke stopped, turning to face him. She didn’t meet his gaze, staring somewhere over his head instead. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He looked at her with an expression that read, ‘yeah, fine. Sure.’

“Do you need something? I have other patients to check on.” Her voice was steely. At her tone, she could see his lips press together tightly, the muscles on his jaw clenching.

“Guess not, Princess.”

She could feel something snap at the use of that nickname. Memories of that night flashed before her eyes, but so did the image of his—significant other laying in the bed mere feet away from them. Clarke’s hand clenched at her belly again.

“Don’t ever call me that again. Go take care of your girlfriend.” And with that, she whirled back around, storming off down the hall. That asshole. 

What she didn’t expect was for him to follow her. “Wait, that’s not my girlfriend. That’s my sister.” 

Clarke stopped short, so suddenly that Bellamy bumped into her. He caught her by the shoulders before he sent her flying, but she lightly stepped out of his reach. She needed to clarify this.

“You’re sister?” she turned to him, keeping her face neutral.

“Octavia is my baby sister. She’s a freshman at AU as well. O lives in the dorms, but when it gets too loud, she comes and studies at my place. Did you think she was my girlfriend?”

Clarke stood there, not being able to think correctly. His sister. Oh my god. Wait. Hold on. Rewind. So she was definitely the girl Clarke had seen in the coffee shop. The one she was sure was more to Bellamy than just a friend because of how—how fucking casual they were around each other- like—like brother and sister.

“Oh my god.”

“What? Hey, are you okay. You look pale as fuck.” Bellamy looked around suddenly, as if his cuss word wasn’t allowed in the hallways of the emergency room.

“After—after that—night. I saw you and her at the coffee shop. And I just assumed—“ she trailed off, looking down horrified. 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” his voice was dripping in disbelief.

“I wasn’t avoiding you.” She snapped. “You didn’t even bother to try and talk to me.”

“Well, you were drunk that night.” Bellamy rubbed his hand through his hair awkwardly. “I didn’t know if you remembered—or cared. I saw you once, but you just walked away so I figured—“ he shrugged, trailing off as she had done earlier.

“Oh my god.” Clarke whispered. Now what was she going to do? She had prepared herself to not include him. But that had been because she assumed she had been his mistake. And now here he was, looking at her so hopeful—and he doesn’t know. “I have to go.”

“Wait, can you stop rushing off on me.” 

She paused at his words, looking up at him in guilt.

“I am so sorry, Bellamy.” And then she rushed off from him again.

 

 

It was nightfall when Clarke got out. She had stayed an extra four hours just to make sure no one waited outside for her. But exiting the hospital, there was no one within sight. There is a bus stop to her right, but Clarke kept walking past it. She really needed to clear her head and think things through.

She already planned this out. The whole pregnancy was supposed to fly by smoothly with just her and Raven. They had marked Bellamy out as an asshole who used Clarke to cheat on his girlfriend. But now, it’s his fucking sister! She doesn’t know how to feel about this.

Clarke sighs heavily, making her way gingerly across a frozen patch of grass. Her apartment is still a good four miles away, but the cold November air was doing wonders for her breathing. Ever since her pregnancy began, she felt this suffocating hand climbing up her throat, trying to cut off her air. But the bitter air around her didn’t let that happen. 

What do I do, she chanted to herself the entire way home.

 

“Did you fucking walk home? Clarke it’s four in the morning. Where have you been?” Raven was waiting up for her. “I’ve been calling your cell phone since your shift ended.”

Looking down, Clarke realized she didn’t have her phone on. “Sorry Raven,” she mumbled, walking past her to the living room. “I stayed late. ER was hectic. I must have left my phone off.”

Raven shifted from foot to foot, her glare dying out as she surveyed a cold Clarke. “What happened?” Of course she could see more into Clarke than she wanted.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to meet her friends gaze. “Bellamy came in.”

Raven let out the appropriate gasp. “No.”

“Yes.”

“What did that asshole want?”

And so Clarke launched into the story. Raven dragged the throw blanket they had and threw it over Clarke, who immediately curled up under it. When she finished explaining everything, a heavy silence ensued. Raven and Clarke were leaning into each other, her head resting on Raven’s shoulder.

“What are you going to do about him?” she whispered.

“I don’t know.” Clarke whispered back.

 

Clarke hadn’t been able to sleep. She got home at four in the morning, but her first class begins at eight. So instead of risking the chance of oversleeping, she hopped in the shower, made herself some gross herbal tea that Raven made her drink instead of her usual coffee, and sat with her laptop to finish up some homework. Raven had gone to bed, assuming Clarke would to. By 7:30, Clarke headed out the door to face the rest of her day.

 

“You’re going to have to tell him.” Raven said bluntly.

“Hello to you to.” Clarke had barely walked into their apartment, only to find Raven standing in their tiny kitchen. 

“Clarke, I’ve given this a lot of thought. Seriously.”

Sighing, Clarke sank into the kitchen chair. She hasn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, having gone straight from school to work. But Raven, to an extent, was right. 

“I know.” She said simply. Raven gave her a leveled look, gauging her expression to see if she was being serious or not.

“I got his number.”

“You—what? How? What did you tell him?”

“Whoa, calm down. I didn’t talk to him. I got it from Wick.”

What—“Wick? The sarcastic narcissistic asshole Wick?”

Raven flushed, but didn’t look down. “Yep. He is coworkers with Bellamy after all.” Then she dropped a slip of paper in front of her. “Wick says he is an insomniac, so call whenever.” Clarke looked hesitantly at the piece of paper. “Hey,” Raven said softly. “Don’t think this is going to be some drastic change. But he is the father, and you can’t deprive your kid a father if there’s a chance he’ll want to be involved. And if he doesn’t, screw him. We are better off. But you need to know—both of you do.”

“Shut up and stop being so logical.” Clarke muttered, but a grateful smile lined her face. Raven smiled back, rapped her knuckles against the table top and turned towards her room. “Tell Wick I say hi,” Clarke called out before Raven fully disappeared. That earned her the middle finger.

 

Clarke must have held on to that paper the entire night before deciding to pick up the phone the following morning. She let it ring once, twice, then she hung up. Oh my god, I can’t do this. Wait, yes you can. You are a fucking doctor. You watched an icicle get pulled out of a shoulder. You yourself pulled out a fucking fork from a human being. Pick up the damn phone, Griffin.

This time, she let the phone ring, heart in her throat.

“Hello?” an irritated voice called out.

“Uhh—Bellamy?”

Silence—then, “Clarke?”

“Yeah.”

More silence. “Need anything?” he asked, voice cold.

“I—uh—I need to talk to you.”

“Talk away, Princess.”

“No, I think it should be in person.”

Silence again. “Is everything alright Clarke?”

“Can we—just meet somewhere? I think—I can explain everything.”

Silence again. Enough with the silences, she mentally groaned. “You can meet me at the bar. It’s near you, right?”

Frowning, she looked at the time. “It’s eight in the morning. I think the bar should be closed.”

His low chuckled sounded from the other line. “Na, I think I can get us in.”

 

And so, an hour later, Clarke is standing in front of the windows of the bar. It is completely dark inside, and there is no one there. Fidgeting, she was about to turn and go back home when Bellamy opens the front door.

“In here, Princess.”

“How did you get inside?” he holds up keys instead of answering, stepping out of her way to let her in. “Is this even legal?”

His mouth twitches, like he wants to grin, but he fights to hold it in. “I own the bar, Clarke. I live upstairs in the loft for a reason.”

“You—own it.” Oh—that makes more sense.

“Yep, proud father of this fine establishment. My baby is less than a year old, and doing just fine. Whoa, you okay?” Clarke had twitched when he said ‘father’ and he had noticed. Worry lined his eyes, but when she didn’t say anything, he sealed his lips shut and gestured for her to sit at one of the tables. “So what do you want to talk about that can’t be said over the phone?”

She sighed heavily and began to talk. “Look, the night I left—I had class the next day. I couldn’t stay. And I work, technically, two jobs. One at the library and one in the hospital. And school had me swamped, so I couldn’t go—looking for you. And then I saw you with your sister and it just seemed like—like she was your girlfriend and I was the random hookup from the bar.”

“Hey, Clarke. You weren’t a random hookup. I mean you were random, and a hookup, but it wasn’t just that. I actually like you.” He reached out to grab the hand that had been laid flat on the table, but she slid it away, looking down.

“There’s more.” She could hear him let out a deep breath, not interrupting her. “I’m—I found out three weeks ago—that—“ and then she started crying. For fucks sake.

“Clarke—“ 

She waved him off. “This always happens—just- let it—pass.” And she sat there, hiccupping pathetically. It was a miracle he sat through it all with her, on the edge of his seat, eyebrows drawn down. Through her tears, she legit prayed that if their child was a boy, he would have Bellamy’s jawline. 

 

When her tears subsided, she simply whispered. “I’m pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was fun.


	4. Aunt Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Octavia is all about family

“He walked away?” Raven’s voice was dripping with disbelief. “He didn’t say anything?”

Clarke was curled up on Raven’s bed. “He tried opening his mouth a few times, but this weird garbled sound would come out and he’d just shut it again. I gave him ten full minutes of silence, but then he just walked out of the front door.”

The echo of the slam still vibrated through her head. She had sat at the table in the empty bar for thirty minutes, not really expecting him to come back. Clarke just knew if she tried getting up, she’s end up keeling over on the floor. So she sat in silence until her heart restarted, then she walked back home. Raven had been at home, and one glance at Clarke’s frozen face had led to donuts, tea, Raven’s bed and good old faithful Titanic playing in the background.

“See, if you had just left me alone to enjoy Jack Dawson, Bellamy would have never happened.” Clarke stated suddenly. But then she regretted saying that out loud, as if she were regretting the baby part as well, which she wasn’t. 

“Hey, screw him, okay. You have your answer now. At least you know.” Which was true. As embarrassing, and heart wrenching, as that morning had been, Clarke was glad she had told him.

“You’re right.” Her voice didn’t sound sarcastic. It sounded sure. “He knows. He chose to walk away. That’s on him. Now I can stop asking myself ‘what if.’ Because like you said, now I know.”

“Exactly!” Raven chirped brightly. “Now pass me a donut.”

“Raven.” Clarke stared at her seriously, bring the donut box closer to her in a protective manor. “You can’t have one of my donuts.”

“They’re technically mine.”

“I’m technically pregnant.”

“Did you seriously use the pregnancy card?” Raven stared at her with wide eyes, the hint of a grin forming on her lips.

“Hey, I have twenty-eight more weeks. I am milking this.” That drew a snort from Raven. “Oh, speaking of milk—“

 

“Do you have a woman who works here named Clarke?” 

Clarke worked that night in the library. She was standing behind the bookshelf, restacking returned books, when the sound of her name made her look up. Standing in the counter of the library was Bellamy’s sister. She was asking Indra, the strict librarian, for Clarke. Oh my god. 

She tried to duck behind the bookshelf, but the cart was in her way. She bumped into it noisily. It didn’t matter, Indra was already pointing her out and Clarke made eye contact with Octavia, who gave her a steely glance before making her way over. 

“Clarke?” 

Clarke simply nodded, then she remembered how she found out about Octavia. “You shouldn’t be walking yet. Do you want to go sit down?”

“I’m fine.” She waved of Clarke’s concern. “I need to talk to you though.”

Clarke nodded again. “Okay, but if it’s about—what I told Bellamy—can it not be here. No one but my roommate knows yet. And I’m not ready to tell anyone.” If Indra found out—Clarke bit her lip.

Octavia gave her an odd look, but she lowered her voice when she spoke next. “I get it. Look, I really want to talk to you about—this. When do you get off work?”

“I get off at nine.”

“Where do you live? I can meet you afterward.” Then she took out her phone without waiting for Clarke to respond. “Type in your number and I’ll call you at nine, yeah?”

“Um. Sure,” Clarke grabbed the phone, dialing her number. “There you go.”

“I’ll see you later.” Then Octavia rushed forward, grabbing Clarke quickly into a tight hug before letting her go just as suddenly. With a curt nod, she turned and walked out of the library. How strange.

She had barely told Bellamy that morning. He must have gone to see his sister. Obviously, she knows. So that means he is telling people. Clarke didn’t know what to think of this, so instead, she threw herself back into shelving books, wishing for something more. She didn’t have clinicals until Tuesday, (today only being Saturday) but maybe she could volunteer, just to distract herself.

 

When nine rolled around, Clarke made her way out into the night. Her head was pounding but the cold night helped sooth it down to a small dull. Her walks were becoming her coping mechanism. She was halfway home when her phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Clarke, its Octavia.”

“Hey Octavia.”

“So where are you?”

“I’m walking home already. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. I can text you the address and my roommate will let you in.”

“You’re walking? Where are you? I can go get you.”

“No, it’s fine, really. I’m halfway there anyway.”

Silence. “Clarke, you shouldn’t be walking that far.”

“I’m pregnant, not invalid.” She snapped. Then she lowered her tone, adding. “Sorry. But I’m honestly almost home.”

“Fine. Text me the address.”

 

Clarke found Octavia waiting outside of the apartment. She was sitting on the hood of a ratty blue car that looked like it had seen better days, absorbed in her phone.

“Why are you waiting outside?” Octavia jumped at Clarke’s voice. 

“Whoa, you scared me. You walk so quiet. Um, I felt weird going up alone. It’s fine though. I didn’t wait long.” She slid off the hood, stowing her phone into her large shoulder bag.

Uhuh, thought Clarke, punching in the passcode to the apartment door and leading Octavia through it. They walked up to her apartment in silence. When they entered, Raven was sitting on the couch, talking on the phone.

“Hey—I have to go. Yes, I’ll text you later. Bye. Hey Clarke. Who’s that?”

“Raven, meet Octavia—Bellamy’s sister. Octavia, this is my roommate, Raven.”

The two girls seized each other up before shaking hands.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Clarke offered. When Octavia shook her head, another awkward silence fell over them.

“So why are you here?” Raven asked bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, thing is, I kind of just needed to—see you.” Octavia glanced over at Clarke, an apologetic half smile, half grimace lining her face.

“See her? Why?”

Octavia glared at Raven. “Because she’s going to be the mother of my niece. I needed to see her. Actually see her and talk to her. Why am I telling you?” she threw her hands up, turning to face Clarke once more. “Look, my brother told me. About everything. How you left him, how you thought I was his girlfriend” she hesitated before adding. “How he left when you told him about the pregnancy.”

Clarke simply nodded, taking off her jacket. The feeling of not being able to breath was coming back. She walked over to the freezer, holding the door open and letting the cold air surround her face.

“You okay?” Octavia inched forward, looking at her in concern.

Raven answered for her. “She gets these anxiety attacks when she’s bombarded with something. It started with the pregnancy. Clarke just needs cold air and then she can breathe again.”

“Have you seen the doctor about this?” Clarke couldn’t see her face, but she heard the worry.

This time, Clarke speaks up. “I have my first appointment this Monday with my OB/GYN. I went to a clinic, but it’s not the same.” 

“You have an appointment on Monday? Does my brother know?”

“How would he know if he walked away from her?” Raven muttered.

“Hey, my brother panicked. You can’t expect him not to. It’s a huge deal to wrap your mind around.”

“We aren’t judging your brother, Octavia.” Clarke said lightly, sticking her head out of the freezer to look at her. “It sucks that he didn’t handle it well, but I assumed from the beginning that he was out. All he did was confirm it, but you’re right. It is a lot to take in.”

“Wait, what do you mean he confirmed it? Okay, I don’t want to argue with you because you’re so nice and you’re hyperventilating and I can’t fight with pregnant women, but my brother is just—he needs time. Don’t cut him out completely.”

“We aren’t cutting him out. He cut himself out.” Raven pointed out.

Octavia wheeled on her. “No, he didn’t. He just didn’t handle it well.” Then she turned to look at Clarke with pleading eyes. “How did you handle it when you found out? If you could have walked away for a moment, would you?”

At this, Clarke looked over at Raven, who was biting her lip looking unsure. Because she had in fact not handled it good. The memory of her dark room and lack of nutrition popped back into the front of her mind.

“Okay.” Clarke said slowly. “When I found out, I didn’t get out of bed for four days. I don’t even think I ate.”

“Or showered.” Raven added.

“Yes, thank you for that. Or showered. So I get it. I honestly do. Just—whatever he chooses, it’s on him.”

Octavia nodded at her like that was expected. “I have one more question.”

“What’s that?” 

“Can I go to the doctor’s appointment with you?” 

Clarke smiled at Octavia. “Sure.” And Octavia grinned back.

 

Octavia didn’t leave until midnight. They had sat to talk, and she let her know a lot about Bellamy. Like how their mother had died when he was seventeen and how he became their sole provider. About how he was the one to help Octavia apply for scholarships and grants so she could attend college. She told him how much of a nerd he secretly was, and how he had learned how to braid Octavia’s hair so she wouldn’t go to school looking ragged. She talked about how he put off going to college for two years so Octavia could finish middle school in her home town, and how he took online classes while she went to high school.

Clarke learned a lot about him that she hadn’t known. At one point, she couldn’t breathe, but by then, Octavia was already yawning, so Clarke walked her outside. The fresh air hitting her face helped ease up the fist in her throat.

“You really need to get that checked out.” Octavia stated, worry lining her face.

“It’s probably just high blood pressure or something. I’ll be fine.” Octavia looked at her doubtful, but then (probably remembering Clarke herself was becoming a doctor) shrugged and stepped close to give her a hug.

“Thanks for talking to me. And for letting me go to the doctors with you.”

“No problem. Thanks for coming and talking to me to begin with.”

“Hey, we’re family now, right?” and with that, Octavia got into her car and drove away.

 

Clarke stayed outside a few minutes longer, breathing in the crisp air. She sat on the bench lined up against her apartment building, her mind trying to process everything Octavia had told her. Clarke’s hand idily rubbed her belly, the small bulge not even distinguishable under her jacket. It was a lot to take in again. When will all this ‘need for thinking’ go away?

When she finally went inside, Ravens door was open, her light still on. Clarke slipped in to find her on the bed texting, a weird smirk on her face.

“So who are you all into on social media’s now?” she asked lightly, already kind of forming her own guesses.

Raven dropped her phone, sitting up quickly. “No one.” She said defensively. Clarke rolled her eyes, but let it slide, dropping down to lay beside her friend. “Octavia leave?” 

“Mmhmm.” Clarke curled up under the blankets. 

“What do you think?” She cringed when Clarke put her cold feet against Raven’s legs, but didn’t push her away.

“About?” 

“Bellamy.”

Clarke sighed, rolling over to lay on her back. “I don’t know.” She admitted. “The way Octavia talks about him—it’s so weird to think of him that—good. You know? Maybe that is who is really is, I just—can’t picture being one of the people to draw that good out of him.”

“What if the baby draws it out of him?”

“Well that would depend on if he ever shows up for it.”

“And you don’t think he will?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you should focus on you. And the baby. If Bellamy wants to be involved, if that side of him does show up—then it does and the kid will love him for it. But if he doesn’t, and it’s just you and the baby, and me of course, then that’s fine too because the kid will still be happy. We will ensure that. And by the looks of it, Bellamy or not, Octavia might be a part of that as well.”

“I know.” Clarke sighed heavily. “I can’t focus on the ‘what ifs.’ It all makes my head spin.” Then she got up, yawning widely. “I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.”

“You work tomorrow?”

Clarke grinned widely. “Nope. Day off. You know what that means?”

Raven groaned, ducking her head down. “Don’t say it.”

“’I’ll never let go Jack.’”

“Let it go, Griffin.”

 

Her Sunday was full of surprises. One: Wick showed up, laden with breakfast items. Raven stood there flustering, not making eye contact with anyone who wasn’t laying on the floor. He didn’t stay long, just long enough to say he had remembered Raven’s favorite breakfast choices and he had ‘ordered one too many.’ Raven wheeled him past a grinning Clarke to talk to him outside in the hallway of their apartment. When she returned, she tried to hide the smugness from her face, but Clarke could see right through her.

Another surprise was Octavia showing up unannounced, arms full of groceries.

“Why is everyone bringing us food?” Clarke muttered, moving to the side to let her in. Behind her trailed a guy with long straight hair.

“Because I saw your freezer and you have too much frozen foods, which aren’t good for the baby. So I went to this cute organic market across town and picked you up a few things. This is my friend Monty, by the way. Monty Green, meet Clarke Griffin. Clarke, meet Monty. He is one of my oldest friends. We grew up together.” Octavia kept rambling on, unloading the groceries, opening cabinets and drawers without permission.

“So, you and Bellamy are having a baby?” Monty turned to her, an easy smile fitting his face.

“Uh—looks like it.” 

“That’s awesome. I’m an only child. My parents died when I was really young.”

“Oh, I am so sorry to hear that.”

“No no, don’t be. It was a long time ago. My grandma took me in. And the Blake’s. I just meant I’ve never been around babies before—or pregnant people.”

“Monty, you’re freaking her out.”

“No, you’re not. It’s okay.” Clarke smiled warmly at Monty. She liked him instantly.

“So what are you doing today?” Octavia asked, already finished with the groceries, returning to stand beside Clarke.

“I have nothing to do today, so I am bumming.” She gestured at her pajamas as proof.

“Watching Titanic for the millionth time.” Raven called out from the living room. 

Clarke glared in that direction before turning back to Octavia. “Do you guys want to join?”

“Aw, I wish. I have work in an hour and I have a few things I need to drop off at my brothers. How about we do movie night this coming weekend? I’m free for Friday.”

“Sure, that sounds fun.”

And with that plan in mind, Octavia and Monty took their leave. Monty asked for her number before she closed the door. ‘In case you need anything,’ he said.

 

“They are all too friendly.” Raven muttered when Clarke returned to her seat.

“True. But now we have groceries.”

“I wonder what other free stuff you can get now that you’re pregnant.” She asked seriously. Clarke giggled, nudging Raven with her shoulders, turning to watch as Rose was about to leap off the edge of Titanic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (:


	5. Doctor Lincoln

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because technically, Lincoln is a healer, it's only right he be Clarke's OB/GYN

Monday arrived, and her doctor’s appointment was upon her. Clarke had cleared her schedule for the day, not knowing how long this visit would take. When she had called to set up the appointment, the nurse sternly reminded her over the phone to fast from midnight the night before until she arrived at the office. Only water until they ran her a few tests.

So by eight in the morning, Clarke was pissed off. She was hungry and her head hurt and she just wanted more sleep. But Octavia was already at their apartment, knocking all chipper like and her and Raven began a discussion involving something, but Clarke couldn’t focus because her stomach was rumbling and she needed to throw up.

By the time they reached the doctor’s clinic, she was ready to die. Still, the nurses were nice enough and they escorted her quickly to the lab inside of the office. Octavia and Raven waited in the living room looking dejected, being promised that Clarke would be back out in under fifteen minutes.

They drew her blood, long tubes being taken away for testing. There were more tubes of blood here than there had been at the clinic.

“Don’t worry, hun.” A nurse had noticed Clarke frowning. “We only do this procedure once when you first arrive, and then once more once you reach the last few weeks of your pregnancy. All the other times, we simply draw blood from a finger.” She smiled reassuringly at Clarke, who did feel a bit better knowing she wasn’t going to have to go through this each month.

“Okay, now we are going to give you this drink. We need you to finish it all while you’re in here. Once you’re done, you can go back out to the lobby and you’re going to have to wait for an hour. This is called a glucose-screening test. Do you know what that is?”

“Yes, it’s to test pregnant women for gestational diabetes.” The nurse raised her eyebrows, looking impressed, and Clarke explained. “I’m a medical student.” 

“Ah, lucky you. Well, drink up and we will see you in an hour. Just stay inside the building in case you do happen to react badly to it.”

 

Clarke went back out to the lobby and the next hour passed increasingly slowly. Octavia and Raven tried cheering her up. Octavia snapped pictures of them waiting, promising to tag her in Facebook. Raven googled jokes, firing off one after the other. 

“Guys.” She interrupted. “I can’t hear you over my intestines eating each other.” but then she immediately felt bad because they were only trying to help her. 

When she tried to apologize, they both waved her off, understanding it was the pregnancy talking, not her. Octavia even took another picture of her frown, saying she was going to write ‘pregnancy problems’ as the caption.

 

After the tests came back, they were all escorted into a room. Clarke didn’t have to take off her clothes this time. The nurses said she would only be getting an ultrasound. Octavia was twitching with excitement. This would be her first time seeing her niece. Or nephew. Everyone seemed set on it being a girl, Clarke noticed.

“Miss Griffin.” A deep voice called out before entering their room. “And family.” He added when he walked further into the room and spotted Raven and Octavia. “Nice to meet you. I will be your doctor. You can call me Lincoln. No need for formalities.” He shook Clarke’s hand, turning to shake her friend’s hands as well.

“Well, hello Lincoln.” Octavia batted her eyelashes at him. Clarke could almost see the hearts floating around her head. Oddly enough, her doctor hesitated, staring at her with a slack jaw expression before clearing his throat and turning back to his actual patient.

“So everything looks good with your lab work. Could you lay back and lift your shirt. I’m going to measure your stomach. Do you have any questions for me?” he reached into his front pocket, pulling out a measuring strip but keeping his eyes on her.

“Yes she does.” Octavia responded for her. “Tell him about the breathing.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, smiling apologetically at her doctor, who smiled softly in response. “Yeah, I keep having these—they feel like panic attacks, just not so aggressive. Like I can’t breathe correctly. I am breathing though, it just feels like not enough air is actually reaching me.”

“Have you taken any medication in the past for anxiety?” he finished measuring her belly, scooting back to look at her. At the shake of her head, he thought for a moment before speaking. “Anxiety is a form of stress. Pregnancy is actually a huge stress factor for a woman’s body because of the changes. So for you to now have anxiety is a normal occurrence. The problem is, I can’t prescribe you anything because the baby cannot take any form of hard medication. What I can offer is suggestions. Such as walking, it helps circulate the blood quicker. I can also give you a list of classes you should take. Yoga, meditation, anything that will keep your body moving and your mind relaxed.”

Clarke smiled at his suggestions. “Sounds perfect.”

“I’ll let the nurses in the front know to give you a paper with the list. Now, if you have no more questions, we can continue with the ultrasound.”

Octavia and Raven both squeaked, moving closer. Again, the cold gel and the colder wand made her shiver. But suddenly the room was full of a beating heart. And there was her little bean. Only, it wasn’t a little bean anymore. The stubs had stretched out, becoming actual arms and legs. The head was more rounded and now Clarke could actually make out where the little butt ended. And again, she cried. And again, she wasn’t the only one, Octavia and Raven joining in.

“Can you print two copies?” Octavia asked when Lincoln began to take pictures.

He smiled warmly at her. “Of course.” Octavia grinned back, biting her lip softly. Oh my god, Octavia, Clarke thought.

 

He actually walked them out. Clarke knew it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the flirting brunette. 

Before they walked out, Octavia turned suddenly. “Can I have your number?” Lincoln actually paused midstride. “For Clarke. In case you can’t be reached in your office.” Yeah right.

Still, Lincoln took out a post-it from his pocket, jotting down his number. He didn’t take his eyes off of Octavia until they had left the building.

“You are good.” Clarke muttered. Octavia beamed at her, sighing contently as they got into the car, while holding the small blue post-it happily in her hands.

 

That night, as she was brushing her wet hair and getting into bed, her phone tinged. An unknown number had messaged her. She opened to read it.

Unknown: Are you going to keep it?

Clarke: I’m sorry, I don’t know who this is.

Unknown: Bellamy..

 

Oh shit. Clarke threw her phone away from her, clasping her hands over her mouth. Then her phone beeped again. She panicked, almost deciding to run out of her room, but Clarke forced herself to stay and pick up the phone again. Her fingers shook as she read the message.

 

Unknown: Hey?

Clarke: I’m here.

Unknown: Look, I know we need to talk. But can you just answer my question first. Are you keeping the baby?

Clarke: Yes.

Unknown: Thanks.

Unknown: Good night Princess.

 

Sleep forgotten, Clarke ran outside, not being able to breath for the next hour. And she wouldn’t have gone back in if Raven hadn’t heard her leave and gone out to check on her when Clarke didn’t return.


	6. Fourteen Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy sucks it up and talks to Clarke

Octavia had become a constant in her life. It was normal for her to pop up at her job, the lobby of the hospital, in between classes, at her apartment. Usually, she had something to give her. An apple, a banana, a water bottle, a new lotion for her stomach. 

And Raven was keeping her promise about dad jokes. Only, she took it to another level. The jokes didn’t stick to dad relations, but they varied.

“Two guys walk into a bar… the third one ducks.” And then she cracks up on her own, no need for applause or confirmation that her joke was funny. Clarke had to admit, they were pretty hilarious. Sometimes. 

Two weeks had passed since Bellamy had texted her. He didn’t try reaching out to her and she didn’t contact him either. It was getting easier to breath, now that she started her yoga classes. Clarke had never worked out in her life, so she had been sore the next day, not wanting to return. But Octavia and Raven, and surprisingly, Monty took the class with her and they forced her to get up and get dressed for their next lesson.

Thanksgiving was that weekend. Clarke still hadn’t told her mother about her pregnancy. She kept finding reasons to put it off a bit longer. Her belly was still small and easy to overlook, though she would have to start wearing loose clothing so the material didn’t define the tiny bump. 

Thanksgiving break would begin that Wednesday, and her clinicals ended on Monday. So Clarke bared through her final day, which wasn’t the best. She got placed in the pit doing sutures all day. She didn’t feel the need to be mind-numbingly distracted anymore, so her day took forever to come to an end. 

But the end did come, midnight rolling around, and she was free! Dr. Kane reminded her that he would be seeing her at the family dinner her mother would be throwing. He was a longtime friend of her family. Marcus had been one of the people her and her mother relied heavily on after her father passed away. And now he was her mentor, which suited her just fine.

When she stepped out into the night, the first thing she noticed was the snow. It was falling down around her in a small shimmer, not yet sticking to the ground. Everything around the vicinity was silent and calm. Clarke inhaled deeply, loving the feel of the bitter cold expanding her lungs. 

Popping up the collar of her jacket, she made her way home, smiling the entire way.

 

Four blocks from her apartment, she saw Octavia’s car. Clarke figured that she had gone to look for her at the apartment and probably got tired of waiting. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to wave her down because Clarke was ready for bed. She paused, undecided.

But she didn’t have to do anything. The blue car passed her slowly, then it braked suddenly, reversing until the passenger window was level with her. She bent down, expecting to see a scolding Octavia.

“Clarke?”

The snow was freezing, yes, but that wasn’t what made her blood stop cold. It was Bellamy. She had been wrong. Octavia wasn’t driving the car tonight. 

“Jesus, what the fuck are you doing walking this late? And it’s fucking snowing. Get in the car.”

He was talking to her as if she was a little girl. Clarke glared at him. “I’m fine,” was all she said before continuing to walk, the angry huffs of breaths she let out solidifying in front of her in an icy smoke.

Behind her, she heard the wheels of the car continue to roll. Good, she thought. He is leaving. But again, she was wrong. He parked the car at the edge of the sidewalk, getting off and slamming his door shut.

“Clarke, seriously. It’s cold.” With his long legs, he caught up to her in an instant, standing in front of her, blocking the way. When she tried to walk around him, he planted himself squarely, not giving her passage.

“I’m nearly home. And I’m tired. Can you just move out of my way?”

“Where are you walking from?”

She shot another glare at him before responding. “My shift at the hospital.”

His eyes popped open, nostrils flaring. “You—walked from the hospital. In the snow. Are you fucking crazy?”

She stiffened at his words. “Move, Bellamy. Now.” And suddenly, she was so angry. Who is he to be telling her anything? He isn’t even around!

“Shit, are you crying? Don’t—“

“I’m not crying because I’m sad. I am so—just get out of my way.” God damn her and her tears, she thought angrily, smacking her hand up to swipe away the traitorous liquid that leaked out. “You have no right to tell me what to do.”

“No right? It’s my—you’re carrying my kid—my kid—through a blizzard.”

And then she snapped. “You aren’t even around! You haven’t spoken to me in weeks! A fucking text is all I got from you. A text! Don’t you dare show up at random in the middle of an empty street and expect me to—to what? Hop in your car like a good girl and let you drive me home, as if we are normal? You walked away, Bellamy.” She had been yelling at this point, but now her voice lost its power. “You walked away.”

Bellamy had been staring at her in silence while she yelled, not trying to defend himself. Now he looked down, looking ashamed, but still not saying anything. He lifted his hands and ran them through his hair harshly, letting out a jagged breath.

Clarke didn’t wait for him to say anything, stepping around him and continuing her brisk walk. He didn’t try to stop her. To her surprise, and irritation, he fell in line with her, walking by her side. She still didn’t fill the silence. Clarke felt that if she opened her mouth, the only thing that would come out would be a sob. So she bit her lip hard, sniffling in the cold, and kept walking home.

Bellamy didn’t talk until they had passed three blocks.

“I am sorry about how I’m handling this.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “It’s just a lot to think about. I’m not sure about anything anymore. But just because I am—confused about this, it doesn’t excuse the way I’m treating you.” Clarke felt him look at her, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. “Clarke—“ and he reached out to grab her elbow.

This is where she began to hyperventilate. The choking fingers had been creeping up on her, slower because of the cold but now they grabbed her fully. She couldn’t breathe. Everything was just too much. She gasped, trying to suck in more air, but it wasn’t possible. 

Then Bellamy began to panic. And they were a ball of panic. Clarke leaned against the wall of the building, taking deep breaths through her nose the way she had learned to in yoga, but with his close proximity, it wasn’t enough.

“I’m calling the ambulance.” She heard him say from somewhere far away, even though he was standing right next to her.

“Don’t—“ she gasped, fingers clumsily grasping against her zipper. She couldn’t show up at the hospital. No one was supposed to know yet. “Help me—take—this off. Please.” Try as she might, she couldn’t find the damn zipper, and Bellamy was just standing there, holding onto his phone. Clarke let out a frustrated wail, giving up on the zipper and began trying to wiggle out of the confining material.

But finally, he snapped out of it. His gaze became determined and quickly, he reached over and unzipped her. Clarke all but threw her jacket as far away from her as she could, pulling her sweater over her head and throwing it as well. She stood in just her blue scrubs, and the bitter cold bit against her clammy skin.

“Are you okay?” Bellamy looked at her uncertainly, managing to keep his distance while hovering. Clarke sat down on the edge of the sidewalk, not caring if it was wet and soaked through her scrubs. He hesitated before sitting down beside her, leaving two feet between them. “Octavia told me about the anxiety, but I thought she was exaggerating.”

“This is the worst one. When I am outside, I can breathe. The cold air, it helps me.” Her hands shook lightly, but her heart was returning to its normal pace.

“I’m sorry I walked away.” He said simply.

Finally, Clarke allowed herself to look at him. His eyebrows were drawn in, lips pulled down in a frown. He genuinely seemed sorry. “It’s fine.” She mumbled. “If I could have left when I found out, I would have run. At least you kept a slow pace.”

He chuckled lightly. And they sat there, in silence, watching as the snow picked up a little more.

 

“I should go home.” Clarke said. With her panic attack gone, the cold began to seep into her again. She stood up, grabbing her sweater and jacket, but not putting them on.

“I’ll walk you.” 

She nodded at him, and they continued on their way down the sidewalk. He reached out to take her jacket and sweater, swinging them over his shoulder. She now realized she had no right to be angry at him. Octavia had been right. He just needed time to think about everything. Just like she had.

“So, what do we do now?” he asked.

Clarke shrugged. “I’ve been taking this day by day.”

“When is the due date?”

“The doctor said May 31st. Which is good, because then I don’t have to miss my spring semester and I’ll have the entire summer with the baby.”

Bellamy visible swallowed. “And you’re going to stay living in your current apartment?” 

She looked at him levelly. “Yes.” She said slowly. “I have my best friends support. I kind of don’t want to leave that.”

He nodded at that logic. “I have a spare room. I was thinking I could convert that into a—nursery, or something.”

Clarke stopped walking. So did he. She turned to face him slowly, his expression was wary, as if he was afraid she would yell at him again.

“You’re thinking of the baby.” It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway.

“I am. It’s not—this isn’t how I pictured things, but now that this is happening—I’m in.”

“You’re in?” her voice dripped with disbelief. She couldn’t wrap her mind around his statement. He was standing here under the falling snow telling her about nursery ideas and she should be happy about that, but instead, she only felt skeptical, like she wasn’t ready to believe him. She waited for the fingers of anxiety to creep back up her throat, cut off her air, but they didn’t come. 

“I’m in, Clarke.” Bellamy hesitantly stepped forward, his hand raising up to touch her shoulder. But he brought it back down the same moment Clarke stepped back.

“Why doesn’t Octavia live with you if you have a spare room?” she fought to neutralize her voice, continuing their walk. She needed a distraction before having a meltdown.

“She wanted to have the full college experience. What better way to experience it than while living in the dorms.” He shrugged. “Then she’ll probably get an apartment with roommates when her freshman year is up.”

“She’s been really good to me, you know.”

He smiled fondly. “Yeah, I figured. Kind of why I told her. Even if I wasn’t around, I knew she’d stick to you. Sorry if she’s bothered you.” He added.

“No, she’s actually helped me a lot. She even began yoga classes with me.” She laughed at the last memory that popped into her head, involving Octavia messing around in class and ended up falling flat on her face. “Well, this is me.” They had arrived at her apartment.

“I’ll walk you up.”

Punching in the number, she opened the door. Bellamy stuck his long arm out over her head, holding the door so Clarke could walk in before him. 

“How long have you lived here? And why is there no elevator?”

“It’s only three flights of stairs.” Clarke murmured. “I’ve lived here for two years. Before that, we lived in a smaller place closer to campus.”

“So you’ve always been with the same roommate?” Clarke paused in front of her apartment door to look back at Bellamy.

“Yep. It’s just been me and Raven since our freshman year.” Then they both stood there awkwardly, Clarke jiggling her keys in her hand. “Well, I guess I’m going inside. Do you--- uh, want to come in for tea? I’d offer you coffee, but I’m not allowed to have any and your sister threw away everything. She even found my stash.” Clarke frowned.

“Sounds like, O.” Bellamy half smirked. “You should go to sleep though. It’s late.”

Clarke nodded at him. 

“Call me if you need anything, yeah?” Bellamy stepped forward again, this time not hesitating, and wrapped her in a quick hug. “I am sorry I walked away.” He repeated. “But you’re not alone in this.” Then he quickly let her go, nodding at her lightly and turning to walk back to the stairs.

Clarke stood there, even after he had disappeared, not one coherent thought coming to mind, but feeling peaceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is fun. This story is flowing out so smoothly for me. I'm glad.


	7. Day Before Thanksgiving

     “Okay, so if anything goes down with your mom, you call me ASAP, got it? I don’t care what time it is, call me and I’ll drive right back. And don’t forget to take that ice gel pack in case you have another panic attack. And your prenatal pills. And--” Raven was flying around their apartment, throwing things into a large suitcase. She was a maniac trying to make sure they both had their essentials. It was almost comical to watch.

     “Raven, I’ll be fine. Just focus on your own packing.” Raven had gotten invited back home by her mother. Growing up, her mother had been an alcoholic. But this summer, she had signed herself up for rehab and was apparently four months sober. This would be the first holiday she spent with her daughter that she might actually remember in the morning. Raven didn’t want to leave Clarke alone for the holiday. The drive back home would take her at least six hours. She was tearing herself in two directions, not wanting Clarke to face her mother on her own but also really wanting to see her mother. So Clarke convinced her to go, after relentless hours of insisting she and the baby would be fine.

     “I know. I’m just—nervous. This all seems too good to be true.” Raven stopped suddenly, looking down at the carpet.

     “Hey,” Clarke stood up, wrapping her arms around her friend. “You need to try and give her the benefit of the doubt. If this is real, then she needs your support during this holiday. Just go see her. Talk to her. You’ll do great.”

      “Thanks. Just the jitters, I guess." Raven shook back her head, putting her 'brave face' on. "And you’ll do awesome with your mom as well. Are you really going to tell her this weekend?”

      “I’m going to have to.” She sat back down on the couch, curling in on herself. The wrath Abby Griffin was about to give Clarke made her cringe. Raven finished packing and stayed curled up with Clarke until six O’clock rolled around.They were both more silent than usual, their impending trials with their mothers hovering over them.

     Clarke helped Raven carry a few things down to the car when it was time, but in all honestly, she just wasn’t ready to say goodbye. But she did, letting Raven climb into the front seat. Clarke cried a bit when she could no longer see the car, but she quickly made herself snap out of it. It was only for a few days. Raven would be back that Saturday.

     Sniffling, she went back into their apartment, put on her Iron Man pajamas and curled up to watch Netflix. Jack Dawson wasn’t cutting it for her today, instead opting for a marathon of The Office, needing something to lighten her mood.

 

 

     Clarke was asleep, having binge watched Netflix for a solid five hours before simply sliding sideways on the couch and knocking out. She had homework to start on, but she promised to finish it all the following day.

     Her sleep wasn’t a peaceful one. She began dreaming about a white room, and in the white room there was a door directly in front of her. She could see herself banging on the door, demanding to see her friends, as if she were floating over her body. Then suddenly, a loud ringing sounded. Clarke looked around for the source, but couldn’t find it. It eventually shut off and that was when she turned back to the door, to resume her shouting. Outside of the door, she saw a person in a hazard suit. Clarke banged on the door harder, trying to draw their attention. When she finally got it, the person turned slowly to face her. But she didn't get to see the front of the individual because the ringing started up again. Turning away from the small window, Clarke whirled around the entire room looking for that insistent sound. Just when she began to lose her mind, she woke up.

     Sitting up quickly, Clarke looked around the dark living room, grateful she was home. It took her a while to notice that the loud ringing followed her out of the dream. That's when she realized it was her phone. She groaned, throwing herself back down on the couch. Her throat felt dry, and her eyes wouldn’t stay open. Just as she was about to fall back to sleep, her phone rings again, the bright screen illuminating the room. She threw her arm out, reaching for it and answered without checking who it was.

     “What.” She snapped.

   _“You okay there, Princess?”_ Bellamy’s deep voice floated out to her. Clarke sighed heavily, rolling over to her side. _“Did I wake you up?”_

     “Sorta,” she mumbled.

     _“Sorry about that. Raven called my sister to let her know you would be alone. So, O asked me to call in on you every so often until she gets out of work.”_

     “It’s one night, Bellamy. I’m not a child. I can be fine on my own.” How irritating to have everyone hovering over her as if she were incapable of maintaining herself. She knew her friends were only trying to help—but sheesh.

    _“No one said you couldn’t, Clarke. We just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”_

     How irritatingly sweet of her hovering friends, she thought wryly.

     “Well, I’m fine. It’s kind of good you called, actually. I think I was having a nightmare.”Clarke clamped her mouth shut. She hadn't meant to complain to him about her dream. Maybe it was because she had barely woken up and she wasn't being as vigil as she normally was. 

     _“About what?”_

     “I’m not sure what was happening. I was just trapped, and alone. And I think there was white everywhere. I don’t know. It was weird.” She frowned, trying to remember the details, but failing. “Anyway, moving on. Uh, thanks for calling, but I'm going back to bed.”Almost on cue, she yawned.

   _“Anytime. I’ll try to keep Octavia off of you, but no promises.”_ Clarke chuckled, knowing full well Bellamy wasn’t a worthy adversary against his sister.

     “Goodnight, Bellamy.”

     _“Goodnight, Princess.”_

 

 

      Clarke woke up to bright sunlight filtering in through her window; as well as several missed calls from Octavia, and texts. Lots of texts.

 

   _Octavia: How come I am barely finding out that you and Bellamy made up? And from him! I thought I meant more to you than this._

_Octavia: So he told me to let you sleep. Fine. But I will be calling in the morning._

_Octavia: But I wanted to ask you tonight. So I’ll ask you through text and you respond to me when I call. Tomorrow we are doing our traditional turkey day! Bell is going to open the bar for us and we’ll do everything there. I know you said you would be busy, but after turkey we usually do drinks, so if you can, you should stop by after your family dinner. Not that we are expecting you to drink, obviously! But it's all about the company (;_

_Octavia: Okay so the last message turned into a picture message, but you get the gist. Anyway, goodnight and I will call you in the morning! XOXO_

 

     Clarke rolled her eyes, stretching lightly before getting up to get ready for the day. She had barely brushed her teeth when Octavia called. Thankfully, she didn’t push Clarke into promising to go to their dinner after she explained that she needed to talk to her mother about the baby. They hung up with cheery 'Happy Thanksgivings!' and a good luck from Octavia. Clarke was now free to  continue her preparations for that night, nervousness fluttering around her chest the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is kind of a filler. It's short and stuff, but I needed to incorporate some details for the next chapter, and the only way to do that was to group it all in a tiny tiny chapter beforehand. 
> 
> Next up: Thanksgiving!


	8. Thanksgiving Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mom's are always scary.

Since Raven had taken the car, Marcus would be picking her up. Clarke packed an overnight bag, knowing she’d have to stay over in case it got too late. By four in the afternoon, her ride was here. She nervously tugged at the hem of her dress before making her way downstairs.

Finding an outfit had been difficult. She couldn’t wear anything tight fitting, because of her bump. But Abby Griffin would scold Clarke if she showed up with layers of ill-fitting clothing. Instead, she opted for a soft pink dress. It hugged her chest nicely, but right above her belly button, the dress flowed out into a semi full skirt, ending in the middle of her thighs, that twirled with her as she moved. Her belly was well hidden, and she looked presentable for her mom.

“You look lovely, Clarke.” Marcus greeted her warmly when she slid into the passenger seat. She smiled warmly at him as they drove off to her mothers house. She didn’t live far, about a forty-five minute drive out of town. The remainder of their trip consisted of them talking about patients and the research paper he was expecting in a week.

“Clarke, sweetie, oh how wonderful it is to see you again!” her mother leaned in quickly, wrapping Clarke in a tight hug, which she returned with vigor. “Oh, you look a bit fuller. You’re finally eating correctly? None of that add-hot-water soup?”

She giggled nervously at her mothers uncanny observations, looking around and spotting Jaha. “Thelonious!” She walked over to the tall dark man. “Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in so long! How are you? Is Wells here?”

Thelonious chuckled at her eagerness. “It has been a long time, Clarke. I’m glad to see you look well. Unfortunately, my son stayed behind at his college. It seems he has found himself a girlfriend and he wanted to spend it with her, but he really did send his regards.”

“A new girlfriend? That’s good for him. I’ll have to call him later. This semester hasn’t allowed for much free time.”

“Ah yes, you’re in the medical program this year. How is that going?”

“It’s my second year, actually, and it’s going well.”

“She is a natural healer. Just like her mother.” Marcus put in. “Hello old friend. It has been too long.” The two men clasped hands, pulling in for a one armed hug.

Clarke slipped away to allow them their privacy. She walked past the living room and into the kitchen. Instead of her mother cooking, there was a catering service. Her mother did cook. Clarke still remembers some of her favorite dishes. But Abby Griffin is a badass doctor who spends more time in the operating room than she did at home. So when she was home, cooking didn’t have an appeal. She hired people to do it instead. But Abby still stood in the middle of the kitchen, one hand playing with her pearls, overlooking the assembling.

“It’s as if you’re preparing to feed a whole camp.” Clarke joked.

“Well, it’s the first time since your father’s death that Thelonious has returned. I just want everything to go well.”

Thelonious had been in the car the day her father died. They were coming home from work when the drunk driver passed the red light. Jake Griffin was dead on impact, his side of the car taking the full force. Thelonious survived, but just barely. Her mother was actually the one who stitched him back together, refusing to let him die. Clarke always figured that since Abby couldn’t save her husband, she needed to save her friend. But when he woke up and found out about her father’s death—it hit him hard. Clarke walked up and put her hand on her mother’s back in a reassuring pat.

“Everything is going to be perfect.”

Abby turned to face her daughter, a brittle smile on her face. It takes more than sympathetic words to ease her. “So how is school? Marcus says you’re exceeding in your clinicals. But you’re only doing your mandatory hours. No extra shifts or volunteering?”

And so it begins.

“No. I also have my job at the library, as well as my classes. I try to stay late after my shifts at the hospital, but my schedule is usually full.”

Her mother frowned lightly. “Clarke, you’re doing well in school. But you need to be better than ‘well.’ You need to be great. And great doctors know how to push their limits. Don’t just border yours.”

“Mom—“

“I know. Breaking points. But you can drop those silly art classes you’re taking. Then you’d have a free opening. I can speak to the dean and have those classes removed without it affecting your drop limit.”

Clarke ran a hand over her face. “I don’t want to drop those classes.”

“They’re drawing classes, Clarke. You don’t need to learn how to properly doodle.” She lifted her hands up before Clarke could interrupt. “I know you are good at drawing. You’re paintings are always wonderful to look at. But that won’t lead you anywhere in your future. You have to think of what’s best for you.” She kept her lips pressed tightly together as her mother softly patted her cheek and, after readjusting her pearls and pencil skirt, made her way back to the living room. When she was out of sight, Clarke let out the breath she had been holding, looking up to the ceiling in annoyance. Her mother did have her best interest at heart. She just—based it on what made Abby excel.

Clarke loved the hospital. She loved the cold calculated sterilized environment. How everything in the hospital had its place, organized and accounted for. But then patients arrived, and organization was put on hold until a diagnosis was made. Every patient was different. Different bodies, immune system, organs, diseases, allergies. You never knew what would come through the door. The fact that her job let her experience both the calculated predictable settings and the ever-changing flow of bodies that set her heart racing made her appreciate her career choice. She loved it. She did.

But she also loved painting. Clarke had always been good at drawing. Not good, she corrected, great. Her drawings had a way of coming alive. Her mother was right, Clarke didn’t need to take classes to learn how to draw. She took them because learning about past artists and what they faced during their lifetime made her feel better. Van Gogh was deemed insane for his ramblings. There was Lord Byron who, albeit, might have been crazy when he brought a bear to Cambridge, but his paintings were electric to her soul. Clarke has learned so much about all these past, and present, artists and it’s nice to have a life outside of the hospital. She was two people, and her mother only accepted one.

The moment she thought this, Clarke gasped. Her hand went up to her belly, pressing on the tiny bump. Then she giggled, thinking she really was two people, and her mother really would only accept one.

 

 

Dinner passed by with no outrageous occurrence. Clarke couldn’t work up the courage to talk to her mother. She had several opportunities, but just as she was about to open her mouth, a guest would arrive and interrupt. Or other times, Clarke herself would move to a different room.

Her mother’s home was a mansion. Her father had it built when Clarke was not even five. It was designed with her mother in mind. Everything she loved, he put in. Clarke was always sure their love would last a lifetime, and in a way it did. Even in death, her father surrounded Abby. She could have sold the house, moved away. But she didn’t seem to mind the memories echoing in the hallways. ‘I can’t leave what your father made in the hands of inadequate new tenants,’ she had said when Marcus asked her to sell the house.

As everyone retired to the living room for some wine, Clarke walked through the house. Several of her paintings were hung on the walls. She stopped in front of one that was at the foot of the staircase. She had painted it before her father passed away. Clarke remembered that day vividly. It was the day she met Finn at a convention. The first time she had fallen in love. Meeting Finn opened up possibilities she had never known before. Their ending was horrible. What he did to Clarke and Raven almost overshadowed any of the good they had managed to experience. Or so Clarke thought. Looking at the painting brought back the array of emotions.

 

 

_The rain was relentless, pounding down in sheets. An art convention had set up in the middle of town, and Clarke was determined to go. Wells was leaving that day, and she volunteered to take him to the train that would lead her best friend away to Connecticut, where he would attend the prestigious Yale. She was happy he was going. It was his dream to do more, see more. Wells knew from the beginning he didn’t want to end up like their parents. Though Clarke and Wells loved them dearly, they were driven by careers, always giving too much to their field. His father was a politician, so it was worse for Wells. After she had dropped him off, saying her goodbyes and promises to keep in touch, she veered off to the convention._

_The rain hadn't yet reached the convention when she arrived, but it soon began thundering while she was in the freestyle section. Large walls were being sheltered with tarps to protect the spray painted images. When it did begin to rain in buckets, she ducked under the homemade roof that led down an alley. More artists had set up booths, propping up their artwork proudly. Clarke walked through the aisles, stopping at each booth, no matter if the art was her usual style. She needed to see it all._

_The very last booth caught her attention. It was full of figurines. Metal work, twisted to look like origami. A raven caught her attention. The bird had its wings open, ready to take flight. Though the style was origami, this artist decided to add detail to the metal bird. Clarke picked up the small bird, it fitted perfectly in her palm, to study the detail. The wing had feathers etched into the top and bottom. But while the bottom was smooth and untouched, the top feathers were ruffled, as if from the wind._

_“Please don’t steal that.” A voice called out. Clarke looked up to see the smiling face of a very attractive guy. His long hair was parted down the middle, white skin glowing in the dim alley. He held out his hand for the figurine, which Clarke placed softly back in his grasp. “If you like that one, you should see these.” And he showed her more, countless more. They ranged from trees, to animals, to human figures. She was fascinated. And he was thrilled that she liked them. In the end, he invited her for coffee, taking down her number. The need to see more artists is what finally pushed Clarke away from his table. But she did return when all the booths were being put away at the end of the night._

 

_The next day, she returned to the street where the convention had been held, sketchbook tucked under her arm. She sat at the end of the block on a wooden crate that had been left behind, drawing the street. Wet pavement, puddles lining the edges, left over debris, booths gaping out empty, the spray painted wall in the far corner. When it was all out on her paper, she went home excitedly, mixing paints to fit the grey colors correctly on a larger canvas._

 

 

That drawing had meant a lot to her. The grey dullness of it was seeped with happiness. Not even the color could diminish its beauty. And that was what made it special. Looking at it now didn’t hurt her heart, like it would have before. Instead it reminded her things change, people change, emotions change. But art—it etched a memory the way it should, preserving a time in her life she can never return to physically. But one glance at this could bring back her remembrance of it all. Hugging herself, she silently vowed that though her mother wanted her to succeed in life, she would have to do it without letting go of Art.

 

 

“So Clarke, you can sleep in your old room. I had the maid put fresh sheets on your bed and towels in the restroom. We’re going to the study to have a glass of wine if you want to join us.” Most of her mother’s guests had left already but, like Clarke had already figured, Marcus decided to stay the night, not wanting to leave Abby alone during a holiday. Thelonious offered to stay at a hotel, but her mother waved him off, telling him she had more than enough rooms for him to stay comfortably. And so the three long time friend’s retired to her mother’s office. Large plush couches pushed near the wall of bookshelves that lined the room and her desk was seating in the far corner of the office, hiding under a pile of manila folders. Her mother always brought home her cases to look over in the dead of night when she shouldn’t be working.

Suddenly, Clarke’s heart hurt for her mom. She must be lonely, locked away in a silent mansion. Her only companionship was her job now. Clarke didn’t visit her enough. How could she? Each time she did, she was reminded that whatever she had done was not good enough. Not that her mother put her down, she just didn’t lift her up either.

“I think I’m going to change into something more comfortable.” Clarke said. Her mother nodded, turning to enter the room when suddenly, Clarke realized this was her chance. “Mom—“ Abby turned to look at her. “When everyone goes to bed—can we talk?”

Her mother raised her eyebrows, turning fully to look at Clarke. “We can talk now if you want.” She bit her lip, looking over Abby’s shoulder to the open door leading to the study. Marcus and Thelonious were lounging on the sofa, a chess board set up in front of them on the large center table.

“No, you go enjoy some time with them. I know it’s been a long time. I brought my laptop and I need to work on some homework, so I’ll be up. Just—come talk to me before you head to bed.” Abby’s eyebrows had risen higher as Clarke spoke. She knew why her mother was hesitant. Clarke rarely asked to speak in private with her. The last time she did was when she needed to announce that she didn’t want to apply for Harvard, but instead, decided to stay in town and attend Ark University. Clarke mentally cringed at that memory, focusing on her mother now. Abby merely nodded, spun on her heel and entered the study.

She let out the deep breath she had been holding, practically running to the kitchen to open the freezer door. While she stood there, controlling her breathing, she felt her phone vibrate in the small pocket of the sweater she had thrown on her.

 

_Raven: knock knock_

_Clarke: Who’s there?_

_Raven: To_

_Clarke: To who?_

_Raven: To whom*_

_Clarke: Lol, you got me._

_Raven: Come on. That one was funny. Don’t forget your prenatal pill. How’s it going with your mom? You guys talk yet?_

_Clarke: Nope, full house. I did ask her to come talk to me when she was through with her guests. I’ll just go to my room and die of anxiety until she comes. Wish me luck._

_Raven: You’ll do great! I believe in you._

_Clarke: My fingers are numb. How is your mom?_

 

Clarke grabbed a bottled water since she was in the kitchen before making her way up the stairs and to her room. She paused at the top of the steps, her eyes sweeping around her to take everything in. Clarke hadn’t been upstairs in almost a year. Last year, Raven had come to the dinner, and they had left together.

Her bedroom looked the same. A tall mirror propped up at the edge of her room was covered in drawings, some finished, some halfway. Her bed sat on the left wall, right in the middle of the room. Its soft white comforter looked inviting. Clarke walked over to her bag, which one of the maids must have brought up. She took out her laptop and sat squarely in the middle of the bed, opening it up and turning it on. She checked her phone again as it loaded.

 

_Raven: Sober. She’s sober, Clarke._

_Clarke: I told you people change._

_Raven: I’m glad I came._

 

Clarke smiled down at her phone. She was glad Raven had gone too, her earlier sadness diminished. Raven’s mom had been an alcoholic since her husband passed away. Raven doesn’t remember her father at all. He died when she was only a year old. But it hit her mother hard, and she began to drink. They were on welfare their whole lives because her mom had stopped working. The money that should have been used on food and clothing was used for her habit.

And that was how Raven met Finn. She had explained to Clarke how his family took her in, feeding her, letting her stay on their couch. They even bought her clothes when her own had become too raggedy to salvage. What happened between them didn’t dissuade Raven from still being friends with Finn. He was her family. Thankfully, Finn attended college out of state. He got accepted to this art school somewhere in Pennsylvania.

A fleeting thought popped into her head. What if Finn was back in town and Raven saw him? It didn’t make her jealous to think of them spending time together. In fact, she had wanted them to stay together, stepping back the moment she met Raven and found out the truth. Raven needed him more.

But Raven changed in the five years Clarke knew her. She had always been strong, yes, but suddenly, she didn’t need anyone else to confirm to her how talented she was. Raven was capable of handling her own weight, shifting from work to school easily. She had earned this high self-esteem where she knew what she could do. And nothing could touch her weaknesses. Finn better not undermine her, Clarke prayed.

Just then, a knock sounded on her door. Her mother popped her head in, peeking to see if she was still awake. Clarke hadn’t even opened any of her homework assignments, lost in memories. This house brings them all out, she figured.

“You’re awake.” At Clarke’s nod, Abby walked further into the room. Wrapping her arms around her, she gazed at the room. “This doesn’t feel like your room unless you’re in it.” She said quietly. Clarke started, shocked that her mother had said that. Since her father’s death, Abby had become an emotional mute. She was counted on when Clarke had problems in school, just not with anything outside of it. She stared at her mom, not knowing what to say.

Abby walked forward, sitting lightly on the edge of the bed. “So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” her forehead was scrunched up, concern etched deeply in her now forming wrinkles. Abby looked young, but you could see her age clearly at the moment.

Clarke took a deep breath, then held it. “I don’t know how to tell you.” She finally said, her breath leaving her at the same times her words did. Another deep breath followed her pause, but Abby didn’t try to fill anything in, sitting and staring at Clarke steadily. “I think—“ and then she broke off, standing up suddenly. This is all too difficult, she thought wildly. Clarke walked over to the large window, throwing it up wide, letting the cold air in. She sat on the bench that was right beneath it, not looking at her mother.

“Are you quitting medical school?” Abby asked suddenly, her voice cold. Clarke turned to look at her, biting her lip and shaking her head. Her mother let out a breath she must have been holding, the wrinkles smoothing out instantly. “Goodness Clarke, you had me frightened. I thought you were going to tell me you were dropping your major. Or worse. College entirely.” Her mother stood up, her eyes softer now, and walked around the bed, sitting back down on the edge directly in front of Clarke. “Just tell me sweetheart. Nothing is worse than what I had imagined.”

Oh how wrong you are. “I’m pregnant.”

The change was instantaneous. Abby leapt up suddenly, one hand covering her mouth, the other reaching out for Clarke in a confused swipe, then it dropped limply by her mother’s side. Neither of them moved for a really long time. “Does Marcus know?” she finally asked.

“No one but Raven knows—and the father.”

Abby’s head snapped up. “The father is informed? Who is he? I didn’t even know you were dating.”

Clarke felt herself blush. “Yes, he knows. And we—aren’t dating.”

Her mother’s sharp eyes scanned over Clarke’s face. “It was a mistake?” at Clarke’s nod, Abby steeled herself, bringing her frame up as tall as she could. “How far along are you?”

“Fourteen weeks, five days.”

She nodded, her voice cold when she said. “Good.” Clarke was confused, and it must have shown on her face but her mother ignored it.

“Good? Why good?” she asked.

Abby looked at her for a long moment, then simply said, “You can still terminate the pregnancy.”

This time, it was Clarke who leapt up, feeling like she had been electrocuted. She had expected her mother to shout, to tell her what a failure she was, to call her a disgrace. A small part of her had assumed her mother would want her to end the pregnancy, but she talked herself into believing that her mother would not be that cold hearted.

“I’ve decided to keep the baby.” Clarke’s voice was flat.

“I don’t think that would be wise, Clarke.”

“Why not?”

Her mother gave her a look that Clarke had grown up with. It read ‘You should know why.’ “You’re in your second year of medical school. You have long hours ahead of you with Clinicals and internships and studies. You haven’t even chosen your specialty yet. Clarke, you have so much potential in life. This fetus will only put a stop to it. Please try and think logically about this.”

“That’s the thing, mother.” Her voice had turned as cold as Abby’s. “You’re being logical about this. You aren’t taking emotions into consideration. I’ve seen this baby,” she emphasized the word baby, not failing to notice her mother call it merely a fetus. “I’ve heard its heartbeat.” She placed her hand on her belly, which brought her mother’s eyes down to glance at it. “I can feel it growing. I know things are going to be hard now but—“

“You know nothing about difficulty, Clarke. I have given you everything in life on a silver platter for you! All you have to do is live up to our name. I don’t ask anything of you. I don’t ask you to pay for your own college. You work because you want to, not because I don’t give you enough. You wouldn’t know the first thing about bringing a child into this world!” Her words stung Clarke. She was right, to an extent. Clarke never had to worry about her financial well-being.

Her voice was quieter when she spoke, the fingers of an anxiety attack creeping up on her once more. “That’s just it, mom. You have been my stability. But I needed a mother to talk to growing up, not a doctor. I needed a friend, not a banker who refilled my account every month. You are right. This will be difficult. But it has to be worth it.” She could feel tears lining her eyes, threatening to spill out.

“It’s not the time for you to be a mother, sweetie.” Abby said simply.

“It’s not up to you to make that decision.”

“No.” she agreed. “It’s yours. But the outcome doesn’t land solely on you. This affects so many lives. Yours, the child—even the father! Bringing life into this world means you can’t just think of yourself. That child needs things. A home, a room, a bed. It needs attention. Your tiny apartment is not a home and while in school, you won’t be able to give your full attention to anything. You will always split your attention between your career and the child.”

“Is that what you did?” she didn’t mean to ask, but the words were out. “You split your attention with your fabulous career and your needing daughter? Are you referring to my situation, or yours?”

Abby stepped back, as if struck. “I did everything with you in mind.”

“You just wanted me to be compliant. I could never think for myself because of Abby Griffins ten year plan. Life can’t be planned, mom. And if you try, life just passes you by while you’re making a to-do list.” Clarke stepped around her mom, getting her laptop and stuffing it into her bag. She had to get out of this house. She needed to breathe.

Abby followed her, grabbing Clarke’s wrist to stop her from repacking. “Clarke—this is a mistake. It’s okay to fix your mistake. No one needs to know and you can focus on whatever life you want. Just—let us fix this.”

Clarke snatched her hand away. Her mother was standing there, offering to let Clarke decide what she wanted to do in exchange for—for what? The life of her baby? She laid her hand on her belly fleetingly, then resumed her packing, not saying another word to her mother.

Once everything was in her bag, she marched out into the hallway, taking the stairs two at a time in her haste to breath outside air. Not just from a window, she needed to be enveloped by it. Tears finally made their way down her face, rolling further down her neck and seeping into her dress. Her coat hung in the hallway closet. Clarke barely managed not to rip it apart as she yanked it off of the hanger, throwing it around her in haste.

“Clarke—if you leave now—I can’t help you.” She had barely opened the front door, stopping at her mom’s words. Clarke knew her mother had her best interests at heart. They just didn’t fit with Clarke’s actual life.

“I can’t be the cookie cutting image of you mom. This is my life now.”

For the first time since the day her father died, Clarke saw her mother begin to cry. Her heart tore open, resolute shattered, and she stepped away from the door to hug her mother. Abby saw this—and took a giant step back, away from Clarke’s outstretched arms. And that hurt more than anything had that night. One last glance at her mother’s tear stained face and Clarke stepped out into the night.


	9. Thanksgiving Part Two

She walked for almost an hour on the dark road leading back home before she decided to call someone. Clarke had cried herself dry, sobbing harshly. The bitter air kept the anxiety attack at bay, but it was constantly there, in the back of her throat. She needed to be alone until it receded further. 

Clarke knew the talk with her mother wouldn’t go down smoothly. Some part of her knew all along that it would only end with her needing to leave. But another part of her had hoped her mother would hug her, make her hot chocolate, tell her it would be okay. She could have given her pointers about pregnancy that only mothers knew. Instead, she hardened her heart and didn’t budge from her views on what was right for Clarke.

Sniffling, she took out her phone. Automatically, she wanted to call Raven. When she turned on her phone, the last thing she had been reading popped up. Raven was excited about her mother’s turn of life. Clarke couldn’t interrupt that. She knew the moment she called Raven, her friend would drive home. 

Clarke looked around her at the deserted street. She was miles outside of town. Raven was six hours away. Technically, she was of no help at the moment. So Clarke scrolled passed her number, eyes landing on Octavia.

She called and it rang, but all too soon, her voicemail picked up, Octavia’s cheery voice telling her to leave a message and she MIGHT think about calling back. Clarke hung up, not leaving a message. She threw her head back to look up at the sky. Maybe asking Marcus, or even Thelonious for a ride home would have been smart. But she hadn’t been thinking at the moment. The need to get out overrode her logic.

Clarke looked back down at her phone. Maybe she could call Monty. They were supposed to have the dinner tonight. She thought he was sure to be with Octavia, or Bellamy.

Bellamy! She scrolled all the way to the top where his number had been saved. Her finger hovered over his number. It was almost midnight. What if they were all asleep and she was just interrupting them? God knows they all don’t need her disturbing their REM cycle. But at that moment, a sharper gust of wind tore at her, the skirt of her dress rising. Clarke yanked it back down quickly, pressing the call button before she could talk herself out of it. He answered her on the second ring.

“Hey Princess. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Bellamy—“

“You okay?”

And then she started crying again. She was tired, and cold, and in heels. Her mother hated her now, hated her pregnancy, her choices and now soft snow was beginning to fall. Clarke’s life sucked.

“Where are you?” Bellamy’s voice was full of concern and she could almost picture his eyebrows drawn down over his dark eyes, a scowl in place because she was taking forever to respond.

“Can you come get me?” she hiccupped.

It sounded like Bellamy covered the phone with his hand. She heard him farther away from the phone, muffled, yelling at someone. Voices responded. A door slammed shut, and he was back on the line, his side silent.

“I’m on my way to your place.”

“I’m not home.”

“Okay, so where are you?”

Clarke glanced around her, unsure of how far out she was from town. A long way in front of her was a four way stop, the cross of the road seemed familiar to her.

“I’m about twenty minutes outside of town, I think.”

“You think?”

“It’s dark. There are no streetlights on this road.” She snapped.

“The road heading out to—?”

Her voice was small when she said, “My mom’s house.”

And it must have clicked for him, the reason she was out in the middle of the night.

“Send me her address, I’ll GPS the route that way. Are there any building around you that you can wait in?”

“No, nothing near me. It’s a dead street until you get into either town.”

“Then stay on the phone with me until I get there. Are you sending the address?”

Clarke clumsily pulled the phone away from her face, typing her mother’s address in a message with frozen fingers. It took her a while, her smart phone not understanding that her fingers were not cold blocks of ice hitting it repeatedly. Finally, the message sent. When she brought the phone up to her ear again, she managed to catch Bellamy’s sharp inhale.

“That’s thirty-eight miles away, Clarke. How long have you been walking?” his voice held suppressed anger.

“I’m not sure. I don’t actually remember the walk until just a few minutes ago. It feels like I just—woke up. Or something.” She was mumbling. Typing in her mother’s address just reminded her why she was out there. Tears began to fall again, the cold air making them feel like frozen water.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What should have taken Bellamy thirty minutes, he cut in half. Clarke heard the roar of an engine before she even saw the headlights. The old blue car came rumbling towards her. He would have missed her completely if she hadn’t been on the phone with her.

“I see you.” When she said this, he slowed down, rolling to a complete stop right in front of her. Bellamy jumped out of the driver’s side, jogging over to where she had sat. He looked down at her for a small while, before grabbing her by the shoulders, lifting her up. Her tears had already dried, her hiccups stopping completely. She had reached the numb phase, not feeling anything in her chest. 

At least not until Bellamy wrapped his arms around her, pressing her to his chest tightly. The side of her face was pushed right above his heart. The steady thumpthumpthump of his heartbeat warmed her up. She could feel his chin resting on top of her head, his hands a full circle around her, wrapping back over his own arms. 

Slowly, she unglued her arms from her side, wrapping them gingerly around him. Her hands were frozen into fists, and she could not open them at all, pressing them against his back to prevent them from sliding back down to her side, useless.

They stayed like that for a moment, his body heat warming her up quickly, before he steered her to the car, opening the passenger door for her. Clarke slid in, pulling the skirt of her dress away from the door when Bellamy gently closed it. He walked quickly around the hood of the car, illuminated for a second by the headlights. Her eyes flickered down to take him in, gratitude pouring out of her at his rescue. 

His face was tight, but he seemed calmer than he had been on the phone. When he got behind the wheel, he reached forward to turn on the heater full blast, turning all the vents towards her. Clarke didn’t mind the cold, it being the only thing holding her back from hyperventilating. But his gesture was well-meant and she didn’t want to ruin it by contradicting his actions. She let the warmth wash over her, making sure to keep her breathing deep and even.

Bellamy drove the normal speed returning, waiting until Clarke spoke first.

“Sorry for making you come get me.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m glad you called instead of walking all the way. Weather forecast said there would be rain turning to slush later.”

Clarke looked out the window at the darkened sky. Even in the dimness, she could make out the rolling sweeps of dark clouds. She shivered to think of getting caught by the icy rain in the middle of nowhere.

“You walked almost eight miles.” Bellamy stated, the frown returning on his face. “Why didn’t you just call me from your mom’s place?”

She rubbed her arms, goosebumps erupting at the mention of her mother. “I didn’t really think about it. Everything just happened so fast, and when I could actually get my bearings together, I was far outside of town. I called Octavia first, but she didn’t answer.”

Bellamy snorted, though his frown remained. “We had thanksgiving dinner. By this time, everyone is drunk, or close to drunk. She probably didn’t feel it vibrate from her purse.”

“Why aren’t you drunk?”

He looked over at her, glancing away quickly. “O said you might come. And since you can’t drink, I figured you would need at least one sober person to talk to.” His tan cheeks darkened a bit as he told her. The hints of his blush made Clarke smile softly.

“I should have just taken her invitation. It would have saved me from the marathon I just walked.” She shivered, rubbing her arms with the flat palm of her hands. The fight with her mother was going to haunt Clarke for a long time.

Bellamy leaned forward in his seat, dragging off his leather jacket. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “I’m fine. The car is warm, but you were outside for a long time. You need it.” When she didn’t take it, he added. “The baby needs to stay warm, remember?”

Clarke snorted then. “Are you using the pregnancy card on me?” she repeated Raven’s words. 

He smiled as she took his jacket. “Might as well, while I can.”

She rolled her eyes at him, wrapping his jacket around her. The sleeves were too long for her, covering her hand completely. Feeling bulky, she snuggled deeper in it, zipping the front up to cover her belly. Grabbing his collar, she brought it up to cover her nose and mouth, which were both still tingling from the cold. It was then that she inhaled deeply, smelling Bellamy’s scent.

The knot of anxiety loosened. The warmth around her should have suffocated her, but sitting next to him, smelling him, she couldn’t feel the pressure. Clarke didn’t know if that was a good thing—or a bad thing. 

“What happened that made you skip town?” Bellamy asked quietly. When she looked back at him, she could see he had been torn between wanting to ask but not wanting to pry. His lips were drawn together, but his eyes looked at her, searching for an explanation.

“I had to tell my mom about the baby.” Clarke decided to tell him. The gratitude she felt for him allowed her to feel okay with her explanation.

“And she wasn’t happy?”

Clarke scoffed. “My mother is never happy.” Bellamy’s face looked confused, so she tried to explain. “My father died a few years back, before I entered college. My parents were the dynamic duo, you know? High school sweethearts. Prom dates. Marriage before college. They pushed each other through everything. God, I can recite their story by memory. She had me, though. They had gotten married, but they never expected to have children. Still, they raised me the best they could. I don’t really remember what they were like while they were still in school. I was too young. But eventually, they made it. She became a badass cardio surgeon and my dad became chief engineer mechanic. And it was like they wanted to make up for my childhood by just—buying me anything I looked at.” She paused, looking down.

“Everything you want? Sounds like a dream come true.”

“You’d think. But they weren’t around. It was like— I had parents, but I didn’t. They were so focused on their careers that nothing else mattered aside from succeeding. When my dad died—all my mom had left was her career. When she realized she wouldn’t be a wife anymore—I guess she figured she had to make it up by being a better doctor. There was no room for anything else.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see Bellamy glancing at her, but she avoided his gaze. “When I told her about the baby, the first thing she wanted to do was to set up an appointment to terminate it.” Bellamy physically stiffened. His hands on the wheel gripped tighter, but he said nothing as she continued. “Maybe I told her things I shouldn’t have. I brought up how she was absent most of my childhood. How materialistic things shouldn’t be a goal in life because that’s not living. I told her—“ her voice broke, her heart hurting for what she said to her mother.

“Hey, you were upset. She’ll forgive you.” Bellamy reached over, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket. He had tried to get her hand, but it was lost in the long material. Clarke pushed her hand through it, letting his fingers find hers, winding together.

“I am an adult. I should have just kept my cool. She can’t force me into anything, I know that. But she talked about how this baby is going to ruin my future. How I can’t give it my full attention because I will constantly be fluctuating between my career and my child. And it just hit me—she was talking from experience. It felt like she was standing there, talking about how I was just a distraction. I know she loves me in her own way, but—“ her tears slid down her face again. “God, I hate this crying thing.” She huffed in frustration. “Before the pregnancy, I think I cried a total of two times.”

Bellamy chuckled softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. It felt nice. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Clarke.”

“It had to happen, I guess.”

They lapsed into silence after that and Bellamy did not let go of her hand for a second.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Oh my god, you made it!” Octavia ran at her, pink faced and hair in disarray. Her breath smelled strongly of alcohol. But the hug Clarke was pulled into felt sturdy and genuine. She smiled into Octavia’s neck and returned the hug. When she released her, Octavia began taking off Clarke’s layers of jackets, as if she wasn’t truly staying until they were off.

“Hey, Octavia. You look beautiful tonight.” And she did technically, she always looked beautiful. But tonight, she had curled her hair, large waves flowing down to almost touch her small waist. A black dress fit against her snuggly, dark leggings covering her legs. Sometime during the night, Octavia had kicked off her heels, standing in front of Clarke barefooted.

“So do you! This color really makes your eyes look more blue.” And then she reached forward, placing her hand on Clarke’s stomach without asking. “Oh!” her eyes grew round, pupils shrinking down to their normal size. “Holy fuck, I can feel the bump.” Her voice was full of wonder, her fingers exploring. “There’s a baby there. Oh my god, Clarke can you lift your dress? I want to see it.”

Thankfully, Bellamy chose that moment to intervene. “Uh—you don’t have to, Clarke. And O, stop.”

“Yeah Tavia. It looks like your trying to molest the pregnant woman.” 

Clarke hadn’t paid attention to the remaining bodies in the bar. She finally allowed herself to look over Octavia to survey the rest of the room. She noted that most of the tables had been swept to the side. In the middle of the room, several tables must have been pushed together to form one long table. A cheery orange tablecloth covered it, and there were the signs of a recently abandoned buffet. 

Two guys were playing pool in the corner. One had turned to look at them, but neither of them left the game. The guy who had spoken sat next to Monty, who waved at Clarke cheerily. She smiled and waved back. The guy next to Monty stood up, walking over to introduce himself.

“Hey, nice to finally meet you. The name is Jasper.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, pulling her in for a hug. The Blake siblings seem to surround themselves with huggers, she thought wryly.

“Are you hungry, Clarke? I saved you a plate in case you showed up.” Octavia grabbed her hand, whirling her towards the actual bar. “Sit, I’ll bring it out.”

“O, she probably isn’t hungry.” Bellamy called out.

“Actually, she is.” Clarke stated, plopping herself down on the stool. “A marathon will do that to you. Plus—“ she waved at her front. “The whole baby thing has me hungry all the time.”

Bellamy smiled softly, running a hand through his curls before going to sit beside her. “Well, then you’re in for a treat, because Octavia ‘saving you a plate’” he lifted his hands to quote this. “Is a bit of an understatement.

And that it was. Potato salads, turkey, rolls, rice, deviled eggs, ham, cheesy casseroles, and pies sat in front of Clarke in large tubawares.

“Uh—did you guys even get to eat?”

Monty grinned. “We had to act fast, but yes, we managed to eat.”

“If it makes you feel better,” one of the guys from the pool table called out as he walked over. “Your plates look almost identical to the ones we are all taking home tonight. We always make too much food for our own good.” He held out his hand. “I’m Nathan, but you can call me Miller.” 

Clarke shook his hand. “It does make me feel better actually.” And with that, she popped open the container holding the potato salad and dug in.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Her horrible experience with her mother never left her, but the people around helped cheer her up immensely. They didn’t know anything had happened. Bellamy simply told them he had picked up Clarke after her dinner with her family ended. They were just normally a happy crowd.

She watched as they drank and ate left overs. Everyone would complain about being full, pushing away plates. Then they’d drink a bit more and the plates would come right back out. Jasper asked to play pool with her, which she won, but only because she was sober and her stick actually hit the correct colors.

At one point, Jasper and Monty brought out ‘special’ brownies.

“My secret recipe,” Jasper crooned as he bit into one. 

Clarke’s mouth watered at the sight of the chocolatey goodness. “I thought I was going to like you guys,” she said suddenly. “but now you’re torturing me by eating brownies I can’t eat. You all are disowned.”

They all laughed, rolling their eyes at the cranky pregnant woman. Octavia brought out a pumpkin pie and some ice cream and Clarke was happy once more.

“I’m going to pretend those aren’t pot brownies.” Miller called out.

“Don’t be a stiff, officer.” The guy who introduced himself as Murphy stated, grabbing two brownies for himself. “It’s the holidays. Might as well—Holiblaze. If you catch my drift.” Everyone groaned at his pun.

“So you’re an officer?” she asked Miller, who was in the middle of a fond smile and a grimace.

“Well, I try to be. But this crowd makes it difficult. Underage drinking and weed brownies. If I was any good at my job, this would not be possible.”

“Technically, it’s legal to drink alcohol so long as your legal guardian watches over you.” Octavia chided, smirking first at Miller, then at Bellamy.

“Technically, Bellamy is my guardian too.” Monty said solemnly.

“Technically, I have glaucoma.” Jasper said through a mouthful of brownie.

“Technically, you all are full of shit.” Still, the smile Miller wore let Clarke know he wouldn’t actually do anything to his friends.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

They all eventually ended up in Bellamy’s flat. Murphy, Jasper and Octavia were stoned, and buzzed, so Bellamy wrangled them all together, preparing to take them all up to his home. ‘Don’t want anyone passing in the street to see you all’ he had stated.

Clarke helped Octavia up the stairs, her arm wrapped around Clarke’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you and Bellamy are talking.” She slurred. “My brother deserves happiness.” Clarke was about to tell her that she wasn’t the source of his happiness, but Octavia waved her off. “I’m not stupid. High maybe, but not stupid. I know you guys were a one-time thing, but now his life is different.” They had reached the top of the steps without an accident. Clarke looked around, noticing they were alone. Bellamy had gone back for Jasper after helping a stumbling Monty up the icy steps.

“All our lives are different.” Clarke whispered, not meeting Octavia’s eyes.

But she wouldn’t have that. Octavia grabbed Clarke’s chin, lifting her face up to make eye contact. “It is.” She responded. “But how are we ever going to live life unless things change? Ah- how do I explain—if everything remained the same, day to day, week to week, year to year, that’s not living. That’s just—being. There’s more to life than just survival.” Octavia might have been stumbling and swaying, but her eyes were focused. “There’s happiness. And this baby could be it for you two. I mean, what’s more happier than a new life being brought into this world?”

Clarke started crying. Yep, full outright tears bursted through her lids, sliding down her face. She leaned forward quickly, hugging Octavia to her tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered. Because she had told her what Clarke wished her mom had told her. And Octavia genuinely meant it. She wasn’t just saying it to make Clarke feel better. From the first time she had met Octavia, she had always made it clear that the baby was a good thing.

Octavia hugged her back just as tightly, running her hands down Clarke’s back in a reassuring manor. They stood there a few moments longer, locked in their embrace, when someone cleared their throat behind them.

Bellamy and Jasper were standing at the foot of the stairs. He was looking directly at her, meeting her gaze intensely. Jasper stood there, smiling at them, but clamping his hand over his mouth to not ruin the mood. Clarke looked away from Bellamy’s penetrating gaze, turning around fully to wipe her face of tears and stepped into the warm apartment.

“Oh there you guys are. You have been gone for hours.” Monty pouted.

“It’s been five minutes, babe.” Octavia reminded him.

“Felt like ages.” He grumbled. 

When they were all inside, Miller and Murphy said their goodbyes. Apparently they were roommates, living only a mile up the road. She was surprised they lived close to her. Clarke had never seen them around town. Well, she wouldn’t. They were both the same age as Bellamy, twenty-five, and neither of them went to college. Miller joined the police academy right out of high school and Murphy worked at a mechanic shop across town. 

“So what are we going to do now?” Jasper clapped his hands enthusiastically, looking around the table.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.” Octavia stood up, heading to the kitchen. Jasper and Monty followed her, animated once more.

Clarke stayed on the couch. Her feet hurt from the long walk and she was properly stuffed, having eaten two different meals in the course of five hours. She grabbed one of the pillows that was laying next to her, curling up around it. 

“Maybe I should go home.” She told Bellamy, who was sitting on the floor in front of the couch where she sat.

He looked down at his phone screen. “It’s pretty late, Princess. You can crash here if you want. You can have my room.”

She shook her head, but made no move to stand up and actually leave. “I feel bad kicking you out of your room. My place is only two blocks away.”

Bellamy turned to look at her, dark eyes meeting her blue ones. His face was stern, but soft, “Just stay, Clarke. I’ll take you back in the morning.” And when he looked at her like that, how could she say no? She mutely nodded her head, scooting further down on the couch. “You can take off your shoes, you know. How did you walk eight miles in heels?” he frowned down at her feet.

Clarke snorted. “I’m not sure, but that is an amazing feat, now that I think about it.” She kicked off her heels, letting them fall over the side of the couch. “I should get an award or something.” Then she yawned widely.

Bellamy stood up, “Come on, I’ll show you were you’ll sleep.” 

She didn’t take his hand, looking up at him with a smirk. “I know where your room is, Bellamy.” And she brought her eyes down to look pointedly at her belly, which was covered by the large pillow. “Plus, I’m not ready to go to sleep yet. I’m tired, not sleepy. If that makes sense.” 

He chuckled softly, and turned to enter his room. The people from the kitchen came out happily, bags of chips stacked in their arms.

“So we decided to Netflix.” Jasper stated proudly.

“A documentary.” Octavia said.

“Anything that will make us trip out.” Monty added.

Clarke laughed, “Then you guys should watch ancient aliens. Makes you question life, man.” She smirked at them, but the three friends were looking at each other with triumphant expressions.

“We like you, Clarke Griffin.” Jasper said, just as Bellamy came out of his room. “Our friendship is going places.”

Clarke laughed loudly, meeting Bellamy’s eyes. He rolled his, then handed her a thin blanket, which Clarke accepted gratefully. She scooted up into a sitting position, giving him room on the couch next to her since his sister and her friends took up the living room floor. 

He plopped himself down next to her, turning to the T.V. to set up Netflix for a chanting Jasper and Monty. Clarke, however, made eye contact with Octavia, who had a happy smirk on her face. Clarke stuck out her tongue at her jokingly. Octavia simply winked at her before turning to face the T.V.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

They only got one episode in when everyone fell asleep. Even Clarke. She had laid back down on the couch, keeping her legs drawn in near her body to not disturb Bellamy. The last thing she remembered seeing was the proof of earlier visitations from extraterrestrial super beings.

Her bad dream returned, only this time it was different. She was running through a forest, trees whizzing past her. Clarke could feel the branches grazing her skin harshly, tugging open small scratches, pulling her hair, but she kept moving. Her heart was pounding from the run and something else—fear. Suddenly, she realized she wasn’t running anywhere in particular, though she felt like she had a destination in mind. No, she was running away from somewhere. Something? Someone? Clarke wasn’t sure who or what was after her, but she was sure that if she stopped, she was dead. And from somewhere up ahead, she heard her name. Soft at first, then growing insistently louder. Just get to that voice, she chanted to herself. Get to that voice and you’ll be safe again.

She woke up to Bellamy calling her name. Sometime during the night, he must have moved her to his bedroom. His soft mattress was under her back. The same lamp was on in the corner of a neater looking desk. And Bellamy was kneeling by the side of the bed, one hand pressed against her cheek.

“What happened?” she murmured sleepily. 

He sighed in relief. “You were having a bad dream, I think. I could hear you from the living room. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

Clarke looked around her, the confusion was leaving her slowly as she looked back at his face. She shook her head silently, sitting up. She looked down at her arms, needing the sight of her unblemished skin to prove to her it was all a dream.

“Do you have nightmares a lot?” Bellamy asked softly. When she looked up at him, she noticed that he hadn’t moved his eyes from her.

“No. It’s weird. This barely started happening last night. It sucks but it’s actually normal for a pregnant person.” She shrugged. “All the hormones are bound to fuck with a person’s sleep.”

Bellamy looked skeptical, but nodded his head, not trying to contradict her. She was the medical student after all. Clarke looked down at herself, noting she still had her dress on.

“Um—did I bring my bag inside?” When Bellamy shook his head, she sighed.

“Did you need something?”

“I packed my pajamas—in case I stayed with—my mom. But it’s fine. My dress is comfortable anyway.” He offered to go to his car and get it but Clarke waved him off. “I’m okay. Honestly.”

Again he nodded, standing up and walking to the door. But instead of walking out into the hallway, he paused, looking back at her hesitantly. She smiled softly at him in what she hoped was encouragement for him to say whatever it looked like he wanted to say.

“Earlier, Octavia said she could feel the baby. But,” he lifted his hand in an awkward gesture. “You’re not showing yet. Was she just kidding?”

“Uh,” Clarke placed her hand on her belly. “If I wear the right clothing, I don’t show. Without a shirt, you can see the bump already. But I don’t know if she actually felt it. It feels—normal to me, and Raven doesn’t exactly give me belly rubs. So—I don’t know.” She finished lamely.

He nodded again, like she was confirming something important to him, but he hesitated again.

“Do you—“ she trailed off. His eyes flashed to her, making her swallow. “Do you want to try and feel it?” her voice was super small by the last word. “If you could lend me sweatpants or something, I can show you the bump.”

There was no hesitation as Bellamy strolled forward towards his small closet in the corner. He rummaged around, pulling out two separate materials. Dark grey sweatpants and a dark blue v-neck tee-shirt. He gave them to her without saying anything.

“Turn around.” He rolled his eyes, clearly thinking ‘We’ve had sex before’ but he complied, turning to face the wall. Clarke quickly threw her dress over her head, letting it fall in a pile on the side of the bed. She stood up on the mattress, putting on the pants first, then the shirt. She giggled at how large they all were on her. “You can turn now.” She told Bellamy as she tried tightening the strings around her waist to keep the pants from sliding off. 

Bellamy turned, but stayed in place. It was Clarke who stood up and padded over to him. She didn’t feel nervous until she was directly in front of him. His eyes were apprehensive, but she could almost see the excitement rolling off of him. He was excited to try and touch the baby, she realized. 

“Don’t judge my fat.” She said flatly, before pulling her shirt up. She balled the material below her boobs, giving him full view of her popped out stomach. Her gaze never left his face. Clarke couldn’t help but smile when Bellamy’s mouth dropped. He took a step back, then sideways to see her from different angles. “It’s not big yet.” Clarke said, feeling self-conscious. “It should be the size of a lemon.” 

Bellamy dropped down to his knees, still silent. Uh—Clarke’s mind went blank. But then he leaned forward, his hands reaching out. He looked up once, asking Clarke for permission with his eyes. She nodded softly at him. And quickly, Bellamy put his hands on her stomach. His eyes were full of wonder, not even trying to hide the goofy grin that slid across his face. 

Clarke stood as still as possible, letting his fingers explore the bump.

“Do you feel it move yet?” he asked. Clarke jumped a little, getting lost in the feel of his hands. She looked down sheepishly, shaking her head. “When will you feel it move?”

“It depends on how big the baby gets. But my doctor says since this is my first pregnancy, I shouldn’t feel it move until I’m almost twenty weeks.” She frowned. Waiting six more weeks to feel the baby move would be frustrating.

“That’s too long.” Bellamy stated, his voice had a slightly annoyed tinge to it. 

Clarke laughed. When he looked up at her questioning, she said “That’s how I feel. Like it’s going to take forever.” He smirked up at her, about to say something, when Clarke swayed.

Suddenly, he jumped up, grabbing her by the shoulders firmly. 

“Come on. You should be asleep now. I’m keeping you up.” He wheeled her to the bed, not letting her say no. But when she reached the edge of his bed, he didn’t let her go immediately. He gave her stomach one last longing gaze, shaking his head lightly, then finally letting go of her.

“Bellamy—“ he had been about to turn away, but he stopped, looking at her sternly, as if expecting her to fight him on putting her to bed. “You can stay, you know.” Clarke felt her face heat up. Bellamy looked surprised. “I mean, you never got to—be with the baby. You can stay.”

“No, I don’t want to keep you up—“

“You won’t,” Clarke said hastily. “I’ll knock out quickly. And—“ she paused, not being able to meet his gaze. She felt stupid. This was all on her though. He was on his way out when she opened her mouth.

“And?”

She shrugged, “I don’t want to have another nightmare.”

Still not looking up, she could hear Bellamy sigh. Clarke didn’t want to look up and see his expression. Pity? Disgust? The creeping fingers of anxiety began to make themselves known in the silence of the room, starting in the pit of her chest and making its familiar path up her throat. 

But then the mattress shifted. Bellamy was climbing in next to her. His face was kind and open, none of the emotions she had feared showed up in his eyes. He pushed her back lightly, and Clarke laid down on the bed, scooting back to give him room. He laid beside her, leaving at least a foot between them. But he brought his hand up, resuming his exploration of her bump. 

Clarke turned to lay fully on her back so he could have room to touch the entire bump. Closing her eyes, she simply enjoyed the feel of his fingers sliding smoothly over her stomach. He painted into her skin with his fingertips swirls and sharp lines. At one point, she was sure he was writing a word on her belly, but she didn’t ask him what it spelled.

“What do you want?” his voice drifted out lightly to her. “A boy? Or a girl?”

Clarke kept her eyes shut, pausing to think about his question before answering. “I’m not sure. I think I want a girl. But—I also want a boy. I don’t want to prefer one over the other because I’ll be happy regardless of what it is.”

Bellamy stayed silent after she finished talking, his fingers drawing a circle around her naval.

“I think,” he began, “Every time I try and picture the baby—I see a girl. I don’t know if it’s because Octavia drilled it into my head, or if it’s a gut feeling. But if I am wrong, I’d be okay with a boy also.”

His voice was hushed, falling over Clarke softly. She smiled at his words. He mumbled something more, but she didn’t catch it, already falling back to sleep, content to hear his voice and feel his hands.


	10. New Bartender

Clarke woke up wrapped in Bellamy. When she had fallen asleep, he had kept a safe distance from her. But now she was enveloped by him. His hand was still splayed on her belly, his other arm had found its way under her head. Clarke’s cheek was resting in the crook of his arm, hands curled against his ribcage. Their legs entwined under the blanket and she could feel Bellamy’s warm breath on the top of her head. 

When she moved back slightly, she looked up into his face. He looked so relaxed and peaceful. His freckles scattered on his cheek and nose were now countable. His lips were slightly parted in his sleep, and Clarke realized again how—beautiful he was. Then she began wondering what their baby would look like.

Before she could start to piece together their features, the door to Bellamy’s bedroom was thrown open loudly.

“Bell, did Clarke go home because—“ and then Clarke and Octavia made eye contact. And Clarke was still wrapped in Bellamy. And wearing his clothes. And she just wanted to sink in further away from the wide smirk that was creeping up on Octavia’s face.

“Go away, O,” Bellamy muttered, not having realized what his sister walked in on. His arms tightened their hold on Clarke, pulling her closer. It was when she wiggled a tiny bit that he opened his eyes in surprise to look down at her.

“Yep.” Octavia called out. “I’ll just—breakfast. We are making breakfast. So—I’ll go—help. Yeah.” And with that, she swept back out of the room quickly, closing the door behind her.

Bellamy chuckled, moving one of his arms off of Clarke and disentangling their legs. They stayed laying down though, facing each other. 

He avoided her eyes when he said, “So—you going to run off for another two months?” He forced a smirk. His eyes darted down to her face quickly, and he added, “Since that’s what you do after sleeping in my bed.” Bellamy’s voice sounded neutral, but Clarke could feel the seriousness behind his attempt to hide it.

She didn’t know what they were to each other. It didn’t feel like a relationship, but they weren’t casual. Clarke had felt their connection since the beginning. But with everything that followed, she hadn’t allowed herself to think of—more.

Shaking her head lightly, Clarke knew this—whatever it was—was something they’d have to talk about eventually. But it didn’t have to be today.

“Octavia is making me breakfast.” She said simply. “How can I run away from that?”

Bellamy relaxed, his grin was real this time before he slid out of the bed. He stretched, bringing his arms up over his head. Clarke had been about to sit up when she got distracted by his movements. A sliver of skin peaked out along his waist when he stretched and that is where her eyes strayed. She had to forcefully drag her eyes away, staring anywhere but at him. The fact that his mere presence was beginning to affect her mood did not go unnoticed.

\------------------------

When they entered the living room, the smell of pancakes wafted out from the kitchen. Monty was seated on the couch, wrapped in the blanket Bellamy had given Clarke the night before. He looked pale and he had bags under his eyes from the night before, but he smiled merrily at them regardless.

Clarke walked into the tiny kitchen. Octavia was standing in front of the stove, spatula in hand, staring intensely at the pancake in the pan. Jasper was sitting in the small two chaired table. He looked better than Monty did, merely looking like he was lacking sleep. 

“Need any help?” Clarke asked Octavia’s back. 

She turned to look at Clarke with a wide grin. “I’m just about finished with this batch. I’m leaning heavily on reheating left overs rather than cooking a whole new meal though.” Octavia shrugged sheepishly, turning back to the pan to remove the finished pancake. “How’d you sleep?” 

It was a normal enough question, but the fact that she had walked in on her and Bellamy made Clarke blush, her face burning up quickly. Octavia turned to glance at her, rolling her eyes at Clarke’s reaction. 

\------------------------

Clarke fell in love with Octavia’s pancakes. It was love at first bite. When she groaned with joy, everyone chuckled. Octavia threw all the credit onto Bellamy, stating that it was his recipe she followed. He tried waving her off, glancing at Clarke wryly. 

That day was Black Friday and Octavia wanted to brave the shopping stores, but the guys, and Clarke, managed to talk her out of it. They spent their morning recounting horror stories full of retail stores, old women with bags that bruised, basket brawls and lines that went on for hours, all for that damn twenty percent off.

\-------------------------

 

“Well, I better get back home.” Clarke stated, a bit sad when she remembered Raven was still out of town until the next day. That means her apartment would be empty. Still, she had homework to get to. Might as well begin that afternoon. But she had been at Bellamy’s apartment the entire morning, and she didn’t want to impose further.

“What?” Octavia pouted. “Why? Do you work today?”

“Nope. I’m actually off all weekend. Campus is closed for the holiday and I only work at the hospital when I do my clinical hours.” And then she sighed happily, letting a goofy grin creep up on her face. Clarke does not get enough days off.

“So you’re just going to go home alone?” Monty asked.

“Are we that bad that you’d abandon us for solitude?” Jasper pretended to be affronted.

“Guys—“ Bellamy tried to go to her defense, but Octavia cut him off.

“No, Raven isn’t coming home until tomorrow. You, Clarke Griffin, are staying here with us. There is no reason to spend the holidays by yourself.” She gave Clarke a leveled stare, clearly not backing down from this.

Clarke chuckled nervously, leaning away from the intensity that was Octavia. “Uh—you scare me sometimes.” And with that, they all broke out in a laugh. Clarke settled back down on the floor, secretly pleased that she wasn’t going to have to leave.

 

\---------------------------------

 

“What do you mean you can’t make it in tonight?”

Everyone was still in their pajamas, surrounding the small coffee table in the middle of the living room playing goldfish. Bellamy’s phone had rung suddenly, pausing the game while he answered it. At his exclamation, Clarke glanced over at him. He ran a hand through his curls like he always does when he is nervous or agitated. His lips were drawn thin with disapproval. Then suddenly, his eyebrows dropped down in confusion at whatever the person on his line had said.

“Out of town? You don’t know anyone out of town.” He listened to the explanation that must have followed. “Did you call anyone to fill in for you?” Another frown. “It’s Black Friday, man. We’re going to be busy. Yeah, alright. This is the only time I let you off the hook. Next time, I’ll need it in writing before you leave for vacations.” He drew the phone away, ending the call.

“Who was that?” Octavia asked, not lifting her eyes from the cards in her hand.

“Wick.” Bellamy said bitterly, rubbing an eye. “Apparently he left town to visit a friends family. Now I’m down a bartender. My main bartender, actually.” He pulled up his phone, fingers flying across the screen. “Let me see if anyone else can fill in for him.”

“A friends family?” Clarke asked. “That friend wouldn’t happen to be my roommate by any chance?” Octavia gasped, finally looking up from her deck with a loud ‘No!’

Bellamy shrugged, looking wary. “He didn’t exactly say.”

“And you didn’t ask?” Octavia sounded disgusted. “God, you are such a guy.” And then she turned to Clarke. “So are they dating?”

Clarke shook her head seriously. “Dating? No. But it’s a huge deal that he is going with her to her families. This specific holiday is—special.” Good for her, Clarke thought. If Wick went with Raven, it meant she had to have opened up to him about her past. At least enough to be prepared. She grinned, shaking internally with happiness for her friend.

Bellamy, who hadn’t been paying attention, groaned. “No one can cover. Or they can, but why come in on their Friday off.” He let out a breath, which came out sounding like a hiss. “Alright, I’ll just have to wing it.”

“I can be your bartender if you want.”

Everyone turned to stare at Clarke. 

“And do you know the first thing about being a bartender, Princess?” it was clear Bellamy found the idea of Clarke as a bartender amusing, a huge smirk across his face.

“I worked at several bars.” She sat up taller, grinning widely at him. “My last manager called me his Master Mixologist.” And then she winked at him, before chuckling at her own wit.

Bellamy boomed out a laugh. “Yeah right. This is coming from the girl who asked me for ‘Alcohol’ the first time she walked into my bar.”

“Hey man, alcohol is alcohol. Plus, the type of alcohol chosen says a lot about that bartender.”

“Oh really?” Bellamy lifted an eyebrow. “And what did my alcohol say about me?”

“Well—“ Clarke sighed dramatically. “I did technically go to bed with you that night. So you tell me.” And as the words left her mouth, she realized she was flirting! Actually flirting with Bellamy. In front of Octavia, Jasper and Monty. But when she glanced at them, they were all huddled together, watching them with wide eyes and even wider grins. 

“Huh, maybe I should pour that drink less often then. I don’t want any of my other customers picking up the vibe you did.” 

She rolled her eyes at him, pretending not to notice his entire frame shaking from silent laughter.

“Well, if you’re going to work my bar, I need to see what you got.” Bellamy said at last.

\--------------------------------

 

They all went down to the bar. Octavia and the two guys hurriedly following behind. She heard Jasper mutter something along the lines of ‘about time’ and ‘tension’ but she ignored him, not looking back. Bellamy walked over to the counter, pulling up a wooden divider on the side of the bar, turning to look at Clarke with a grin.

“Right this way, Princess.” He said cheerily.

He really thinks she couldn’t do this, she realized. Oh, the challenge rose up in Clarke. She skipped over to him, sliding past him behind the counter. He smirked as she passed, then he stepped out of the bar, pulling down the wooden door, leaving Clarke alone. She didn’t ask what he was doing, simply watching as he walked over to a stool and sat down on it.

He rapped his knuckles on the top of the bar before saying, “Oh bartender. I’d like a drink.”

“Are we really doing it like that?” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Excuse me,” he acted offended. “I am a paying customer. And I’d like a drink.”

She could see Octavia holding in her laughter behind Bellamy. When Clarke made eye contact with her, Octavia gave her a thumbs up in support.

“Alright. What’s your poison?” she smirked, repeating the same words he had spoken to her the night they met. She could tell he remembered, his gaze shifted from playful to surprised and ending in a smoldering burn. Clarke wanted to swallow at his sudden intensity, but she gazed back at him unwavering.

They stayed in the burning stare down until someone behind them cleared their throat loudly. When Bellamy looked behind him annoyed, she took her chance, glancing down quickly and sucking in fresh air into her lungs, having held her breath almost the entire time. Quickly, she straightened back up before he turned to her, smiling at him innocently.

“Long island.” 

She nodded, turning to look at the shelves of bottles. First, she located the five that she would need. But instead of grabbing them all, she ducked under the bar to where the mixing cups usually were located. Most bars were shaped the same way. She found what she needed, bringing out the mixer and placing it on the counter. Luckily, she also found the glasses finished drinks went into. Grabbing one, she added it on the counter.

Clarke grabbed three of the bottles she’d need, pouring them at the same time into the mixer. Inside the metal cup were measuring units lining the side, and she used those as a guide for how much alcohol she tipped in. When they were properly poured, she shelved them back up, bringing down the remaining two she needed. Before pouring those in, she looked around her, trying to figure out where she’d find the ingredients.

“If you’re—“

“Shh,” Clarke cut Bellamy off before he could point anything out for her. “Be a good customer please and wait for your service like everyone else.” She glared at him jokingly until he pretended to zip his lips, leaning back on his stool. And then she continued her scavenger hunt. It didn’t take her that long. In the corner sat a wide refrigerator. When she opened it, she was pleased to find a drawer filled entirely with lemon slices. She took out 6 slices, carrying them with her back to where the mixer sat. 

Clarke squeezed four into the mixer, throwing the peels away. Then she added the last two liquors. Twirling on the heel of her foot, she placed the glass bottles back on the shelf, then returned to the container holding the deadly drink. Placing the lid, she began shaking the bottle, letting all the liquids slosh around together.

She threw a wicked grin to Bellamy, who was sitting there staring at her in awe, before tossing the canister up in the air. It flowed smoothly up, then over her head. Holding out one arm, she caught the mixer perfectly behind her back without looking. The three friends clapped enthusiastically, applauding Clarke. Monty let out a whistle. 

Grabbing the glass, she scooped some ice inside, placing the last two slices of lemon on top of the ice before pouring the drink into the tall glass. She added a few ounces of soda from the tap, plucking a straw up from a container, and slid the drink neatly towards Bellamy.

“Master Mixologist.” She repeated, bowing her head in mock humbleness.

“You’re hired.” Bellamy said simply, joining in the clapping. “When can you start?”

\-------------------------

Okay, so she might have gotten carried away with the showing off. But she had worked two years at a bar before the library. And no, her nickname hadn’t actually been Master Mixologist, but it did have a nice ring to it.

Jasper asked her to make another drink, taking a picture of her when she threw the mixer up in the air. It cracked him up to think of a pregnant person having more skills behind the bar than the actual bar owner had. Bellamy grumbled about Clarke being ‘good’ but not better than him. He waved off Octavia when she shouted for a bartending match, saying he needed to start setting up for the night. But Octavia whispered to Clarke that her brother was just afraid of being one-upped by the mother of his child in his own bar. She thinks Bellamy heard his sister, because he blushed lightly, biting his lip to try not to grin.

 

Two members of his staff arrived earlier, getting things ready in the kitchen. Bellamy returned to his apartment to change out of his sweats and into his usual black attire. He reminded Clarke to wear mainly black. He didn’t implement a dress code on his workers. So long as they wore black, they could wear whatever.

When she asked Octavia to take her home so she can get an outfit, Clarke got dragged back to the loft and into the spare room. 

“I stay here a lot, so I leave my clothes behind all the time. Which is annoying if I want to wear something but I forgot it in a different house.” There was a dresser in the corner and this is where Octavia walked to, pulling open drawers and shifting through material.

This was the first time Clarke had been in this part of the apartment, having only seen the front (and one bedroom). The spare bedroom was cozy looking. Large windows covered one wall. The sight wasn’t anything special, the back alley of the building, but the light it cast in the room made up for it. The walls were bare and there was little furniture filling up the space, solely a small bed in the corner, the dresser and a nightstand. That wasn’t even near the bed, it was shoved into a far corner.

“It’s a pretty empty room.” 

Octavia stopped rummaging in the drawer to look over at her. “Yeah, my brother isn’t big on decorations. It’s a miracle he has a kitchen table, actually.” She continued her attack on the dresser, talking over her shoulder. “I was usually the one who picked everything out. If we moved to a new apartment, I’d have to shove him through the doors of a store. He moved to this place a couple months after he bought the bar. Bellamy said it was because buying the bar took a hit in his savings, but I know that’s bullshit. He just waited for me to graduate high school before he found somewhere permanent.”

Clarke had been staring back down the hallway as Octavia talked, trying to picture what it had been like for him. The sound of footsteps made her turn back to face the room. Octavia was holding out different articles of clothing in front of her, examining them.

“He wants to turn this into the nursery, you know.” Octavia stated simply, peeking up at Clarke’s face. “Yeah, that’s big. For Bellamy. Like I said, I would have to drag him out by his hair just to get us things we actually needed. But he has a lot of plans for this room.” She smiled fondly around at the walls, before resting her gaze on Clarke once more. Octavia didn’t push her into saying anything. She held up a black cloth, scrutinizing it seriously before smiling in triumph.

“Clarke Griffin, I am going to make you the hottest pregnant bartender in town.”

Clarke snorted, “Why do I have to be hot? Why can’t I be a tomboyish bartender? Step out of my comfort zone, you know?” 

The look Clarke got read ‘don’t act dumb.’ “Because Clarke,” Octavia spoke slowly, as if she was afraid she would miss out on a syllable. “I have to turn my brother into a giddy teenager. And you are the one who will accomplish it.”

\---------------------------

Two hours later and Clarke looked—hot. Octavia had dressed her in tiny high-waisted shorts, the hem hugging her ass. She had been afraid her bump would be noticeable, but the black helped blend it in a bit. Her black crop top ended an inch or two above her shorts, leaving a slither of skin peaking out. Octavia had shoved her into a tight bra that amplified her—ah, assets. 

Her hair had been straightened, then re-curled. Wide waves of golden locks cascaded around her in a soft curtain. The makeup came next, winged black eyeliner, red lipstick and a small amount of blush coated her face, making her seem—well Clarke thought she looked scary, but Octavia let out a happy huff of air, stating Clarke was officially a babe. She brought out these really tall, deadly looking heels, but Clarke waved off the pumps. She was still pregnant, and pregnant people did not have the best equilibrium, opting for black high top converse instead. 

Octavia got ready soon after, wearing less clothing than Clarke. And the ten inch pumps went to her, matching perfectly. Apparently, they weren’t allowed to leave the house until Octavia took several selfies. Clarke made to step out of the way when she was grabbed by the wrist, a glaring warning was shot at her once, followed by a command to pose in front of the full length mirror that was propped behind the door to the restroom. She felt silly, but Octavia made it fun.

Finally, they headed to the bar. It was already dark, but Bellamy had told Clarke to wait until around nine. That’s when the crowd came in and he’d need help. Suddenly, Clarke was nervous. What if all of this was too much and he thought she looked like she had played dress up with an emo goth princess? She stopped walking, prepared to run back home and hide under her bed, but Octavia stopped her, whirling her back around and all but shoved her into the bar, muttering something about now having a sister she would have to drag through doors.

The bar was already filling up, bodies lining the counter. With one final nod from Octavia, Clarke made her way to where the wooden door swung open. Bellamy was at the far end of the bar, filling up a pitcher with beer from the tap. She slid behind the counter, turning away from him to place the heavy door back down in place. 

When she turned, she met Bellamy’s gaze. Oh—freezing, she took in his expression. His mouth was open in surprise, but he quickly shut it. Even from this distance, she could see him visibly swallow as his eyes snaked down her body. And it was as if he ran a hand down her. She warmed up wherever his eyes laid next. 

Bellamy strolled towards her, eyes flashing. He stood directly in front of her now, his tall frame fully erect. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him. One of his hands lifted, lightly touching the side of her neck. Clarke had to force herself to stay still, wanting to melt with his finger’s touch. He smirked at her, as if he knew what she must be feeling. 

Leaning down until they were at eye-level, Bellamy said “You look so beautiful, Clarke.”

She could feel her blush ripple across her face. Clarke knew speaking now would ruin the moment. Her voice would probably come out as a squeak or something. So instead, she leaned forward quickly and pressed her lips against Bellamy’s cheek. 

When she pulled away, she barely had time to note the way his smile softened or the way his eyes danced before the voices of customers broke in. Knuckles were being rapped against the wood repeatedly.  
Putting on her most brilliant grin, she stepped away from Bellamy’s intoxicating presence, focusing on the demanding crowd that sat opposite her.  
\---------------------------------------

She realized how much she missed bartending, not having noticing until now how busy a bartender is kept. Crowds surged forward, claiming pitchers and drinks in volume. The moment one customer moved, another stepped forward to place his order. There was no lull in between requests. Now she could see why Bellamy almost panicked that afternoon. 

The two of them worked as a perfect team. They flowed around each other, aiding the other when they could. Small distractions happened, like when Bellamy placed his hand on the small of her back and she had dropped the glass cup she had been holding. Or when Clarke almost tripped over a rag one of them had dropped earlier. She reached out and gripped the first thing she touched. Which happened to be one of Bellamy’s biceps. He had been pouring a clear liquor into shot glasses, but at her touch, the liquid spilled everywhere but the cup he had been aiming for. But eventually they synchronized, picking up the feel and rhythm of the other.

She got to meet the other employees. Two guys, Sterling and Myles, manned the kitchen. They were impressive. She had gone to the back to get more lemons, only to find them flying through orders. Then the waitresses, Fox, Monroe and Emori. The two girls, Emori and Monroe were nice enough ,smiling at Clarke and including her in conversations whenever they were behind the counter. Fox, however, regarded her with a shrewd expression, turning her nose haughtily in the air and not speaking to her. She didn't stop to wonder why, not really caring.

\-------------------------------

 

At 1AM, with only two hour left for closing, the bar had quieted down. Most of the customers surrounding them were already filled with enough alcohol and not that many new ones were walking in to replace the ones that left. 

“So how much did you make in tips?” Bellamy called out. Clarke finished pouring a beer for the man sitting in the corner with his head in his hands before walking over to where Bellamy stood.

“I actually got a lot,” she said simply, pointing nonchalantly at her tip jar, which was overflowing. Bellamy’s looked pitifully empty compared to hers. “I’m honestly thinking of handing you my resume. My library job doesn’t pay as much.”

“Well, you are a better bartender than Wick, I’ll give you that. I’d have to check your references though. What if you’re only a good worker the first week and then all your bad traits pop up after you get comfortable?”

Clarke nodded seriously. “I understand. I should save you a few phone calls and tell you my quirks now. Honesty adds points, right?”

Bellamy smirked, crossing his arms and nodded for her to continue.

“There’s that thing—I don’t believe in the use of shoes.”

“Shoes?”

“Shoes. They’re so confining, you know? Like a body wrap for your feet.”

She could see Bellamy had tried to stay composed, but he bursted out laughing. 

“Did you take a few sips from people’s drinks? You know that’s bad for the baby, right?”

“Does this mean I’m not hired?”

“This definitely means you’re not hired. No shoes, no service. Sorry Princess.”

“I’ve been thinking about this Princess thing.” A customer called out just then, waving Clarke over. She held up one finger to Bellamy, walking over to refill the pitcher for the frat boys who were surrounding one of the pool tables. The tall guy who had come to get their next round grinned at Clarke, sending her a wink before returning to this friends.

She turned back to Bellamy to finish her sentence, only to find him frowning, dark eyes following the frat boy steadily. Did he see the wink? He must have. The clenched jaw gave him away. Bellamy Blake—jealous. Now that was a sight. He finally looked her way. Clarke raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she walked back to his side.

“So the princess thing.” Bellamy picked up the conversation.

“Right. I’m not feeling the whole princess vibe. I think, now that you have seen my skills, Highness Mixologist suits me better.”

\------------------------

In the end, Bellamy did not waver on her nickname, but she never assumed he would. They did however establish that she was the better bartender. When they had finished cleaning up the place, a very drunken uproar sounded out. Emori and Murphy (she didn’t realize they were dating until then), Jasper, Monty and Octavia called for a competition. 

After mixing them all more drinks, which they soon realized their drunk friends didn’t need, Clarke was named victorious. One of the deals was that Bellamy concede his title and hand it over, which he did so, grumbling and all.

But when that was done, it was time to get everyone home safely. Emori, who hadn’t drank until after her shift, was sober enough to call her and Murphy a cab. Jasper and Monty were fine walking back to their dorms, but Bellamy shook his head and discreetly directed them back to his apartment, promising to drop them off in the morning. Octavia simply threw an arm over each of her friends, and the three of them made their way happily to the alley.

“You can stay another night you know.” Bellamy said when he and Clarke were alone.

She shook her head. “I can’t. Raven is supposed to be back early. I want to be there when she does. I feel like I haven’t talked to her in forever. Even though it’s technically only been two days.”

Bellamy nodded. “Well, I’ll walk you back then.”

\--------------------------

Snow was falling around them as they walked, but Clarke didn’t mind. Bellamy did. He shrugged off his leather jacket and handed it to her. She didn’t try and fight him. Her bare legs screamed at Octavia. Clarke vowed never to let her play dress up with Octavia in the dead of winter.

Their walk was filled with a comfortable silence. When they did talk, it was of something trivial and in hushed tones, the empty street demanding their whispers. Clarke felt happy. 

Her mother had not called her, and she knew the moment she was alone, everything would rush at her at once. What to do about her mom, Bellamy, work. She had so much to think about. 

Though her mom had been too cold about it all, she was right. Clarke still had six years of medical school. How was she going to juggle it all? And the apartment they currently lived in only had two rooms. Where would a nursery fit? Bellamy had his extra room but that would only be at his place.

And that brought up Bellamy. What were they? Tonight was fun and he had rescued her, but they hadn’t spoken of anything serious, merely enjoying their hours together. How would they share this child? Weekends with him while weekdays with her? It was all very domestic and she had no idea where to begin to approach this.

Instead, she pushed it from her mind for the duration of their walk, focusing on the now. They had time to think through this. One step at a time. If she tried to rush it all now, she’d be hovering over anxieties not yet arrived.

Her apartment building was hushed. They ran into only one other person, second floor, apartment B4, a lady letting her cat inside. She waved at Clarke before shuffling back inside.

“What time is Raven back?” Bellamy asked, as Clarke shuffled through her bag for her keys.

“I think she said she was leaving in the morning, but now I’m not so sure.” Unlocking her door, she pushed it open, peering into the dark. “You want to come in? You still haven’t seen my palace from the inside.” She joked.

“Sure, Princess. Lead the way.”

Her apartment really wasn’t all that. A small kitchen directly to the left of the front door with a small square area called a dining room to the right. The living room lay beyond that, filled with a large TV propped in the back wall, bookshelves that ran perpendicular to it, two plush sofas, a coffee table and a standing lamp. Ravens room was off to the right of the living room, a single door leading into her small space. She didn’t take Bellamy through there, merely pointing it out. Clarke’s room was to the left of the living room down a tiny hallway. While Raven had her own bathroom (Which was much needed for her weird need to experiment with mechanical fluids), Clarke used the restroom directly in front of her room. And that was basically it for her place.

“Not bad,” Bellamy looked around appreciatively at her room. Clarke was flicking on lights as she went, not wanting to walk through darkness. When she turned to look at him, she found him already gazing at her in amusement. “Not bright enough for you?”

“Hey, don’t judge. I’ve just gotten used to not being alone at home. Raven is always with me.” She shrugged, feeling self-conscious again.

His face softened at that, looking around her room once more. He walked over to her bookshelf. Her variety of books was limited, mainly consisting of college textbooks, old sketchbooks and binders of her drawings. He lightly touched a sketchbook, but didn’t pull it out. Clarke couldn’t help but ripple with—some hidden emotion at the sight of him in her room.

“I can stay.”

She hadn’t been paying attention to what they were talking about. Were they talking? Clarke had been busy admiring his sharp features.

“Here.” He turned to look at her, dark eyes crinkling in the corners when he saw her confusion. “You said you aren’t used to being without Raven. I could stay the night. And just leave early.” He was—offering to not leave her alone. How—cute. “If you want,” he added, looking back to her shelf, tan skin darkening under his cheeks in a blush. Her silence must have seemed like a rejection. 

“That would be nice,” she said finally, adding softly, “Thank you.”

Bellamy grinned at her, “No problem, princess.”

 

\--------------------------------- 

 

For the second morning in a row, she woke up wrapped in Bellamy Blake. This time, it didn’t feel as weird. It felt—nice. 

He had offered to take the couch last night, but Clarke had waved him off. If he hadn’t let her sleep on his couch, why should she let him? After almost shoving him back through her door, he finally conceded. It had been kind of fun. Her Iron Man pajamas were guy pajamas. She hated the girl version of pj pants, tight elastic and clinging material. Clarke knew the appeal of being sexy—or whatever, but when she was home from clinicals, like hell she wanted to stuff herself into that discomfort, opting for baggy boy pants. And that is exactly what she gave Bellamy to wear for the night. The sight of him coming out of her restroom in them made her laugh for almost ten minutes straight, until his threats to sleep naked made her shut up.

They had started the same, distance between them. But Bellamy couldn’t contain himself, reaching his fingertips out eventually to play with her belly. Clarke didn’t mind. In fact, she accidentally sighed out loud once. She stiffened, embarrassment flooding through her, but when she peaked out at Bellamy, he had his eyes shut. It almost looked like he was asleep, if not for his moving hand.

And now, his chin resting on her head, arms wrapped lazily around her, sunlight filtering in through her opened window, Clarke felt content. She couldn’t tell what time it was, nor where her phone ended up, but she wasn’t exactly in a rush to move from where she was at. She snuggled closer, putting her head back where it had laid before she woke up.

Until she heard moving outside of her door. Her eyes flew open again, looking back up at the sunlight. Shit—it was bright. Meaning it was later than she had assumed. It had been late when they arrived and now they overslept.

As quietly as she could, trying not to move Bellamy, she snuck herself out of his arms, padding lightly towards her door. One last glance behind her confirmed he was still asleep. Not being able to help herself, she stopped to look at him. Black inky curls swirled on her pillow. His eyelashes drew shadows on his cheeks. Beautiful—she thought, before sliding the door closed.

Rounding the wall that separated the small hallway and the living room, Clarke smacking into a body.

“Ouch, shit Griffin.” And just like that, Clarke threw her arms around Raven, crushing her to her chest. Raven’s wiry arms wrapped around her as well, squeezing her gently. “I thought you weren’t here.” Raven’s voice was muffled. Clarke released her, stepping back to look at her.

“Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“I called your phone. Then I texted Octavia and she said you had spent the night over there.” Raven raised her eyebrow at her, letting her know she had some explaining to do.

“Uh—I did. Yes. But that was on thanksgiving. Last night, I came back home. Or this morning. What about you? Wick went with you?! How did that happen?”

“Uh—yeah, how did you know about Wick? And how’d you even end up at Bellamy’s on Thanksgiving? I thought you were at your moms? What happened with her?”

Then the two girls looked at each other for a second before cracking up. 

“Ice cream?” Clarke asked.

“I’ll get the bowls. Meet in your room?”

“Uh—how about yours?”

“No!” Raven answered too quickly. “What’s wrong with yours?”

“Nothing,” Clarke said evasively.

Again, the two girls stared at each other skeptically.

“Bellamy?” Raven asked simply.

“Wick?” Clarke asked back. Neither of them answered the other, eyes slanted shut waiting for one of them to break first.

“We need more ice cream.” Clarke said simply, and Raven nodded to that.

\------------------------------

 

“She said that to you? No way. And you just left?” Raven sat next to her on the couch, episodes of Friends running in the background. Clarke had just finished recounting the story about her mother. She let Raven kick off from there, analyzing her and her mother’s words.

Both guys were gone. It had in fact been Wick in her room. He and Bellamy had emerged at the same time, while Clarke and Raven ogled from the kitchen, unsure of how to handle the situation, opting for a heavy silence. The awkward silence was broken when Raven began snorting, and soon after breaking down into laughter, at the sight of Clarke’s pajamas slung low on Bellamy’s waist. Personally, she thought he looked sexy.

But they both ducked back into the rooms they had vacated, not coming out until they were fully changed. Wick swooped down and gave Raven a quick peck on the lips, grinning down at her blush before ducking out of her way and out the door. 

Clarke walked Bellamy to her door. She was actually sad he was leaving, this weird tug on her heart making her want to drag him back to her. Instead, they said steady goodbyes and he promised to text her when he got home. Before she stepped back to go inside, Bellamy leaned forward, pressing a soft lingering kiss on her cheek. Feeling her face flame up, she stumbled inside, leaning against the closed front door with a sloppy grin on her face. Raven stared at her from the kitchen, bowl of ice cream in her frozen hand as she took in Clarke’s face.

 

After the breakdown of her conversation with her mother, Clarke skimmed through the events of thanksgiving with the Blake’s. Raven gushed sweetly when she talked about Bellamy and the baby. She cackled at the outfit and bartending duel, wishing she hadn’t missed that. Then she whistled through her teeth when Clarke told her about Bellamy offering to stay the night.

“He has it bad.”

“No he doesn’t. He’s just—nice.”

“Clarke, I know nice. That is pushing nice to a whole new dimension. Plus, I just saw his face. He’s into you. And why shouldn’t he be? You’re amazing and beautiful and fun. And soon, you’ll be the mother of his child. It was bound to happen.”

“I don’t want that to be the reason,” Clarke said softly, mixing the mushy melted ice cream around with her spoon. “I don’t want it to be convenient because we’re sharing a kid. I want it to be—real.”

Raven patted her hand. “You can’t fake real, Clarke. If it feels real, it is. You’re overanalyzing again.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Maybe, but now it’s your turn. Spill. How did Wick end up at your moms?”

And this time Raven launched into her story. How her mother was as sober as could be. But she had been disoriented of the happenings of the past two or three years. She was working hard with a therapist who was helping her piece her life together. Now she had to piece together the life of her daughter. Raven’s mom invited Finn to the dinner, not knowing what had gone down with the two of them. 

The shocking part had been the fact that Finn arrived—towing his new fiancé. A girl he had met in Art school. Of course, her mother hadn’t known, but Finn had been a part of their life for so long, she didn’t want to turn him away when he had driven all the way there for them. But Raven didn’t want to take that laying down, calling Wick, who jumped on the first flight out, willing to help Raven out.

“So he—‘pretended’ to be your boyfriend?” Clarke scoffed. “Not much pretending there.” Raven punched her arm lightly, continuing on about how Wick charmed her mother, irritated Finn by logically shooting down one of his philosophical theories and fixing her mother’s fridge. All in under an hour. Quite an amazing feat. “And he just ended up here by accident? In your bed. Without a shirt.”

“It was late when we got back, okay and I didn’t want to drive him to his place then drive back. And he had nothing to wear to sleep. Unlike Bellamy, he didn’t have super hero pjs to choose from.”

“I don’t think De Nile is located in Egypt anymore.” Clarke said seriously, awarded another punch. “You cannot shoot this down Raven. Wick—is a huge deal. Why are you so set on pretending it’s not? What’s wrong?”

Raven huffed frustratingly down at her bowl, her face in a scold. “I just—to be with Wick, I’d have to be open. And I’m not. Each time I try, I feel like I’m being fake. Being open—doesn’t fit me.”

“Then don’t try to be anything. He’s here already, meaning he likes you the way you are. You don’t need to convert to a certain characteristic to be with him. Just accept and acknowledge your feelings, you know?”

“What have the Blake siblings done to you?” Raven asked in mocked horror, earning a punch back. But she looked down at her own bowl, fidgeting with the spoon before asking in a small voice, “You think he likes me?”

“Oh please. Of course he does. He jumped on a flight to go help you with an ex. Wick had to get his ass chewed out by Bellamy for missing work. If that’s not love, I’m not sure what is.” For the remainder of the day, they sat on the couch, talking about everything the other had missed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This made me smile. I love it. And I hope you guys do as well.  
> Unbeta'd so bare through my mistakes, I am only human.

**Author's Note:**

> Any suggestions are welcome (:


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